I Write Sins Not Tragedies
by Eris-R-Renee
Summary: AU: Seven times Sam falls into sin and John follows. And the seven chapters is takes to reach a conclusion. Abusive!John Clueless!Caring!EventuallyBadass!Dean Hurt!Angst!Sam Other Characters Include: Bobby, Caleb, and Pastor Jim. Future Wincest. Sam/Dean (Rated M for future chapters)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did…well, a lot of things would be different. I also do not own the places the Winchesters visit. If I did, it can be assumed I'd be rich enough to own Supernatural…

Ages this chapter:

Dean= 16

Sam= 12

_**Pride is excessive belief in one's own abilities. It has been called the sin from which all others arise. Pride is also known as Vanity.**_

**IN MICHIGAN:**

Sam was sitting quietly, reading the computer screen rapidly. The library was cold, causing goose bumps to break out across his skin; however the teen was to focused to notice the discomfort. Dean had left awhile ago to help their dad with some interviews. Sam was finishing up the research. He knew that his dad was eager to leave the town as it was nearing the anniversary of Mary's death and it always made John restless. The youngest Winchester shook the morbid thoughts from his head, turning instead to running over the possible outcomes of this particular hunt.

There was no doubt in his mind that the cause for the recent string of deaths was a werewolf. The only thing was that there appeared to be more bodies than one wolf usually accounted for. However, Sam couldn't find any evidence of more than one werewolf despite the body count. The teen pinched the bridge of his nose. It was obvious that the werewolf was the new postman.

The start of the murders and his arrival were perfectly in sync. The postman didn't have a wife and Sam couldn't see any other ties that would led to a reasonable second wolf. The teen sighed, logging off the computer after clearing the history. He wouldn't mention his thoughts to his dad; it would just make him angry and tense. Plus they would spend more time in the town as John would want to double-check his son's research with a fine-tooth comb, so to speak.

Sam stood from his seat and walked out of the library, nodding to the librarian with a slight smile. The brunette ran a hand through his hair, hitching the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder to keep it from slipping. The sun was bright and harsh, prompting the teen to sit beneath a nearby tree, trying to keep out of the glaring light. He leaned his head back, knowing it could be awhile before his brother and father came to pick him up.

With a light sigh, the 12-year-old closed his eyes. A gentle breeze rustled through his hair, causing it to tickle the side of his neck. He lazily reached up to brush it away, removing the irritant. The teen had just slipped into a light sleep when the familiar purr of a classic car sounded from around the corner of the street. Sam opened his eyes in time to see the Impala turn the corner, the sleek metal gleaming in the sun.

With a slight groan, the teen stood and lightly stretched to rid himself of the tense muscles along his shoulders. The Impala slowed to a stop in front of him and he quickly climbed into the front seat, tossing his bag into the back.

"Hey kiddo. How'd the research go? Find any dust?"

Dean snorted at his own joke as Sam merely rolled his eyes. Honestly, he thought, dust in a library. That was original. Sam settled into his seat. He was glad that his father had gifted Dean the Impala for his 16th birthday. Mostly because it made Dean happy but also because the Impala had become even more of a safe haven than before. Now, when they went on a hunt or drove to the next town, Sam rode with Dean. It was nice to feel safe for once. Sam sighed, shaking his head as though to rid himself of cobwebs. Dean was humming along to the Heartbreaker* as he drove back to the hotel.

"So?"

Sam turned to look at his brother, confusion evident on his face.

"So what?"

Dean sighed, one of the teasing ones that often escaped when Sam was doing something he deemed childish.

"How'd the research go?"

Sam turned from his brother, gaze fixating on the passing houses and shops. Without thinking he began to rattle off the information he knew his brother would be interested in; who it was, what it was, and how to kill it. Sometimes the youngest Winchester wondered if the elder even retained the information or if he just expected Sam to always be there to tell him. The car became silent again as Dean pulled into the hotel parking lot.

"Come on squirt."

"Not'a squirt."

Dean smirked, ruffling Sam's hair as he passed. The two headed into their room, Sam dumping his bag on the table. John was cleaning a Pennsylvania scout .50 caliber flintlock rifle, totally absorbed in his task. Dean went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, opening it and placing it in front of his dad. The man looked up, flashing his son a small smile.

"Thanks Dean."

The eldest child hummed in appreciation of the recognition he had received from his dad. Sam sat on his bed, head bent over a book Bobby had given him last time they visited. It was written in Latin but that wasn't a problem for Sam. Besides, the stories in it were original accounts of the monsters in the Supernatural world. It was an invaluable resource.

"Sam!"

The brunette's head quickly lifted, marking the page he was on and closing the book in one smooth move. Dean and John were both turned to him, the eldest looking at him expectantly.

"The research?"

Sam nodded, reaching into his bag and fishing out the organized notes he had taken. His father would rather read them and avoid looking his youngest in the face then listen to Sam the way Dean had. Sam huddled against the head board, appearing very much absorbed in his book. In truth he was looking through the fringe of his hair and watching John as he read the notes. The man's face was blank and Sam resisted the urge to sigh. No pride, no happiness. He was nothing compared to Dean.

"Dean."

The elder looked up from his pocket knife. John was standing and shoving his wallet and phone into his pocket.

"I'm going to double-check the research. We'll head out when I get back."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he nodded, mumbling a yessir. Sam looked up, finger toying with the corner of a page.

"Sir?"

John paused where he was, one arm through the sleeve of the jacket. He turned to look at Sam, moving to slide the other arm into his jacket. Sam licked his lips, lowering his gaze to John's chest instead of his face. It was subtle enough that Dean wouldn't notice but also stopped John from glaring at him for disobedience.

"Ah, if you double-check the research, sir…it may be too late to save the future victim. The werewolf will strike again tonight."

John did nothing but stare at Sam. Dean, sensing the tension, perked up from his spot at the couch.

"Sam's right, Dad. Besides, Sammy's never been wrong with research before."

Dean cast a sly grin at his little brother when their dad adopted the thoughtful frown that meant he was thinking about something, turning it inside out and looking for faults. Finally, after a few minutes of silence, John nodded.

"Alright. You win."

He turned back to the door.

"I'm going to gas up the truck. Meet me at the park in thirty."

The door closed with a sharp click. Sam released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Dean grinned and stood, beginning to short through his bag.

"Hurry up or we'll be late, bitch."

"Jerk."

**AT THE PARK/30 MINUTES LATER:**

The boys got to the park first. It was already beginning to get dark outside, coating the horizon in red light that melted into a pink. Sam couldn't help but compare it to the sight of blood washing down a shower drain. Dean tossed Sam a shotgun and turned from the open trunk to greet his dad. Sam pulled out a silver knife when his back was turned, tucking it into his jacket and quickly zipping said jacket closed. Dean turned back to him, quickly pulling out a pistol and tucking it into his waistband and then grabbing a shotgun for himself.

The three quickly moved onto the wilderness trail. John walked in front with Sam in the middle and Dean covering the rear. The sun disappeared completely, bathing the world in the darkness of night. Sam twitched as he listened to…nothing. The sound of nothing was what tipped the teen off in the end. Everything was too silent and in the next minute there was snarling and a howl. John was screaming something and then one of the moving shapes fell to the floor with a whimper.

Another wolf came out of the darkness, took one look at the dead wolf lying at John's feet, and pounced on the hunter with a growl. John was tossed into a tree, back arching as it connected. He fell to the forest floor, limp. Dean yelled out as the werewolf latched onto his back with a claw, ripping through jacket and shirt and then skin. Sam cried out as Dean fell, knocking his head on a rock and losing consciousness. Sam felt like time had finally slowed enough for him to become aware of what was happening. The wolf turned to him and Sam hefted his shotgun, taking a shot.

It connected, causing the wolf to howl as the silver nicked its ankle. Enraged, the beast tore through the leaves, heading towards Sam. It barreled into him head on, causing him to drop the shotgun. The brunette grunted, successfully avoiding the snapping jaws. The beast wasn't as heavy as he would have thought, though its nails were digging into his chest rather painfully. Sam wiggled a hand between the wolf's chest and his body, slipping the knife from its hiding place and bringing it up in a sharp thrust.

The wolf fell over almost immediately, breath shallow and rapid as it looked down at the knife sticking out from its heart. Sam lay on the cold forest ground, breaths coming short and rapid. He could hear his father struggling to stand. The young teen stood slowly, walking the few yards to his brother and dropping to the ground beside him. With tender fingers, Sam tore off his jacket and wrapped it around Dean's head wound, being careful to remove leaves from the sticky wound before finishing the bandaging. John came over, dropping to Dean's other side and examining the wounds on his chest.

"Goddamnit!"

The man gently slipped his arms under his eldest son, cradling him to his chest as he stood. Sam stood, scrambling to grab the weapons. He followed his father to the cars, clutching the three shotguns to his chest. John gently set Dean across the back seat of his truck. He tossed Sam the keys for the Impala.

"Clean up here and walk to the hotel when you're done."

Before Sam could question his father, the man had jumped into his vehicle and peeled out of the parking lot. Sam blinked owlishly, moving to the Impala and opening the trunk. After depositing the shotguns, he grabbed a bag of salt and a lighter. Gently closing the trunk he hurried back to the werewolves' bodies. Damn it, he knew there were too many bodies for just one wolf and he didn't even mention it! Sam shook his head, angry at himself. When he arrived at the bodies, they had converted back to their human forms. The mailman and…

Sam almost smacked himself in the face. Of course! The man behind the counter at the post office. It made sense, Sam thought to himself as he dragged the bodies next to each other, covering them in brittle, dry leaves and branches. There had been disappearances before the post man had come to town. One or two a year, which was really quite normal. The man must have bit the post man and tried to teach him how to control his wolf side.

Sam poured salt on the bodies, stopping to pull the silver knife from the post man's chest. After tucking the blade into his pants, he set the bodies on fire. The brunette sat down, knowing he couldn't leave until the bodies were turned to ash. He settled against a tree, prepared for a long wait. And wait he did.

**2 HOURS LATER/WITH SAM:**

The teen trudged up the steps to the hotel room. He had just walked from the park to the hotel room and his feet ached something fierce. It had begun to rain lightly about 5 minutes earlier and his hair was just wet enough to drip. Suppressing a shiver at the cold, he walked into the hotel room and dropped the Impala keys onto the side-table.

"Sam."

The teen turned, eyes wide as he took in his father. The man's shirt was covered in blood and he looked angry, the tight lines of his mouth causing Sam to shrink from him.

"This is your fault."

Sam gulped, following his father's indications and kneeling on the floor in front of him. John twisted Sam's shirt in his fist, holding the teen steady as he punched him in the face.

"Dean has 2 cracked ribs, a concussion, and lost half the blood in his body and. It's. All. Your. Fault!"

Sam whimpered as his lip split, blood quickly dripping down his face. John seemed to have spotted the knife tucked in Sam's waistband because he quickly pulled it out, slicing the teen's side as he did so. The man inspected the knife, walking the light sheen of blood glimmer in the low light.

"Shirt off."

Sam obeyed, knowing by now it was better to just go along with whatever his father said. John fisted a hand in his son's shaggy hair, pushing his head low to gain better access to his back. He quietly commanded Sam to count. With little precedence, he dragged the knife across Sam's back, from shoulder to shoulder.

"One…"

Sam clenched his eyes shut as he listened to his father.

"It's your fault Dean is hurt."

"Two…"

"All your pride and arrogance…you don't know shit!"

"Three…"

Sam whimpered lightly.

"Four…."

"This is your punishment Samuel."

"Five."

"Take it like a man Samuel."

"Si-ix…"

"Stop whimpering brat!"

"S-se-even…"

"You're worthless Sam…you can't even do research right!"

"E-eight…"

"All Dean does is protect you…"

"N-nine…"

"…and you repay him by causing him harm!"

"Ten…"

"You're a horrible brother Samuel."

"Elev-ven…t-twelve!"

John yanked Sam's head back, looking him in the eye.

"You killed your mother, Sam. It'll be your fault if Dean suffers the same fate."

John let go of Sam's hair, leaving the boy to fall to the floor. Sam lay in silence, eyes closed tightly and he tried to breathe through the pain. John left after a few minutes and yet Sam remained on the floor. He was so tired…he knew he would have to clean everything up before his father got back. Especially if he returned with Dean.

Dean…_it was all my fault_. It was his last thought before darkness firmly claimed his vision and he fell into a fitful sleep.

**END OF CHAPTER:**

**How'd ya'll like it?**

***Heartbreaker is a song in Led Zeppelin's 2****nd**** album. It is amazing~**

**Review please!**

**Eris-R-Renee**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did…well, a lot of things would be different. I also do not own the places the Winchesters visit.

Ages this chapter:

Dean= 16

Sam= 12

_**Anger is manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury. It is also known as Wrath.**_

**IN MESA, ARIZONA:**

It was a simple salt and burn. In the desert. Which should have made it so much easier. The air was so dry in the desert the fire would be easy to light. The difficulty was the stake out Dean and Sam were on. The grave was in the backyard of some guy's house. John was gathering the supplies for the salt-n-burn while the boys waited for him and made sure no one was home. Sam was sitting in one of the few trees on the block, hidden by its branches and leaves. Dean was under the shade of another tree, taking a nap.

He looked as though he belonged there. He wore jeans and boots, as per usual. His leather jacket was on the ground next to him, showing off his Aerosmith shirt. Sam didn't understand how his brother wasn't dying in the heat. The only telltale sign of Dean being hot, other than in the metaphorical sense, was the slight sheen of sweat coating his forehead and muscled arms. Sam allowed himself to appreciate the intoxicating sight of Dean's glistening skin pulled taunt over perfectly sculpted biceps.

The afternoon passed by slowly, the sun dipping low and relieving some of the obscene heat. Once the sun had been absent from the sky for approximately 30 minutes, Dean stood from his spot and pulled on his jacket. Sam slipped from his tree a bit shakily, his sight doubling before clearing out. Dean joined him, both accepting the guns their suddenly appearing father tossed at them.

"Come on."

They followed him through the house. In the back yard was a bunch of unmarked graves. All but one was dug up. John had managed to knock out 12 last night but the 13th had got shoved to today. The man and wife who owned the house had no idea their backyard was a graveyard but luckily a hunter friend of John's figured it out. He had sent the family on a free faux vacation to give the Winchesters enough time to get all the bodies burned.

"Sam, keep an eye out for the last victim. Dean, help me dig."

The two got to work, quickly digging into the rock. Sam kept watch as best as he could. He found himself stumbling slightly, vision blurring as his head buzzed. The tight grip he had on his Mohawk 48 shotgun was slipping and he hefted it up higher in his hands. Dean grunted, his shovel hitting the wooden lid of the coffin with a dull thud. Almost immediately the serial killer appeared. His own remains were buried here by his brother after he was shot by a detective. The spirit didn't say anything, just yelled in anger and flew at Sam. The brunette managed to get 8 shots of rock salt off before he tumbled back into an unmarked grave, crying out when his head hit the decayed coffin.

"Sam!"

John turned to his eldest, who was halfway out of the grave.

"Burn the remains Dean. I've got the spirit."

Dean nodded, quickly snapping into action. He gave his father a boost out of the grave, taking the blunt end of his shovel and banging it against the wooden coffin. The lid began to give way, revealing a pile of bones. Meanwhile, John was blasting the spirit with round after round of rock salt. The spirit let loose a howl, sending John spiraling into a tree. He crashed to the ground unconscious. Dean covered the body in salt and then gas. He quickly climbed out of the grave, flicking open his lighter. The spirit tried to pull the pistol out of his hand, causing the hunter to drop his lighter.

"You fucker!"

He twirled on his heel, taking aim and firing. The spirit dissipated. Dean growled, dropping to his knees and reaching for his lighter. He had just managed to grasp it when the spirit came back in a raging tornado. The winds picked up and Dean growled, trying to get the flame to light. The spirit howled and began pulling Dean away from the grave by his ankle. A cry escaped his lips at the frozen grip that caused his ankle to ache. The flame ignited and he tossed the lighter into the grave. He turned to lie on his back as he watched the spirit burn. For a few minutes he allowed himself to stare at the starry sky, just catching his breath. Then he heard a groan.

"De'?"

Dean scrambled to his feet, hissing in pain when he stepped down with his left foot. Hobbling to the edge of a nearby grave, he kneeled in the dirt and peered over the edge. Sam lay covered in ash and dirt. He was holding his head, one eye squeezed shut in pain while the other frantically searched for his elder brother. Dean sighed softly in relief.

"Jeez brother, you sure attract trouble."

Sam winced sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head nervously. Dean grinned.

**LATER THAT NIGHT: **

John wanted to be pleased the Sam was alive and breathing but he was just so angry. Not only had he screwed up the hunt, but Dean had also ended up hurt because of it. Sure, Sam had severe dehydration and was lucky not to have been buried alive. Yet Dean, who had managed to kill the spirit, was out of commission for at least a week. His ankle was so badly sprained he wouldn't be allowed to do anything other than hobble to the bathroom and then back to the couch.

As it was, Dean was made to stay at the hospital overnight, just to make sure everything was in order. Sam hadn't needed to be checked out, which was lucky on John's part because he was able to drop the kid off at the hotel room to clean the guns. Which weren't put away, the eldest hunter realized with a short growl. God, Sam just couldn't help but screw things up! The boy was seriously out of line. John turned and headed to Sam's room, opening the door. The boy was sitting cross-legged on his bed, pouring over a book in his lap.

"Sam."

The brunette looked up; hazel eyes flickering back to the book in his lap after he realized who had called his name. John scowled at the object of his son's attention.

"What's up Dad?"

"_Sam_…"

The young hunter slowly put his book to the side realizing the anger and soon-to-come beating by the way his father had growled out his name. He carefully maneuvered off the bed, ducking his head so it rested on his chest and letting his body relax. The posture screamed 'submissive' which was something Sam hated himself for allowing. Almost immediately his father's fists were raining down on him, his words loud and particularly cruel tonight. Usually his father spoke simple curses under his breath, mutterings of Sam's mother and her death, how it had been Sam's fault, and whatever frustration that day's hunt had brought.

This was not the first time this had happened. Sam vaguely remembers his father's fists on his flesh when he was 5. That was the first time Dean got hurt because of him. John had gone on a quick hunt and left Dean to look after his little brother as always. Sam had wanted Oreos but they were on the top self. Dean promised Sam he'd get the cookies. He did. It was unfortunate that the eldest Winchester child fell off the countertop and broke his wrist. They had gone to the hospital, were Sam told the doctor what happened because Dean was to out of it.

When they got back to the hotel room John gave Dean his medication and waited for him to fall asleep. Then he'd told Sam what a self-absorbed child he was and how it was his fault Dean was in so much pain and his wrist was broken. Sam had cried and when he did, John smacked him. That only made him cry harder. That was the first time John ever beat Sam. The next morning when Dean questioned Sam's black eye and limp, the 5 year-old told the lie his father had forced him to remember.

"I fell off the bed again, Dean. I'm okay."

That was the first time Sam was beaten. He had thought it would be the only time. His 'daddy' had helped him patch the wounds, whispering that he'd only had a rough day. Sam had allowed it, childish mind believing John when he said it was a onetime thing. It certainly wasn't and Sam found himself snorting at his stupidity.

Sam stood carefully, well aware that something was broken in his chest and if he moved the wrong way there could be disastrous consequences. Carefully he seated himself on the edge of the bed, reaching to grasp the pajamas that were resting on the dresser. Opening the first draw, he pulled out his personal first aid kit and carried both items to the bathroom. After closing the door and locking it behind him, Sam managed to tug off his clothes, dropping them in a cluttered heap on the floor.

Part of him wanted to take a shower to ease his aches and pains but he knew that it would only serve to aggravate his father further. He didn't like noise while he was drowning himself with alcohol. Sam wasn't looking for another round tonight (he never was looking for a round to begin with) and decided to just deal with the tense feeling in his shoulders and back. With deft fingers Sam prodded his chest, ignoring the pain that pushing on the surfacing bruises created. A soft sigh of relief escaped his chapped lips.

The good news was the rib wasn't broken, luckily. It was only fractured. The bad news was that there were two ribs that were fractured, not just the one Sam had thought had been the problem. Grabbing some adhesive medical tape from his kit, he tore off a piece. After making sure it was no more than two inches wide, he began to place it over the first fractured rib. Biting his lip in both concentration and for pain management, he ran the tape along the rib to the center of his back. He repeated the process with the other rib.

Breathing a little easier now that he knew the ribs were at least somewhat stabilized, he reached into the first aid kit. Pulling out a tube of lotion, he squeezed some onto his fingers and gently rubbed it over the worst bruises. Leaving his shirt off so the lotion would dry, he turned his attention to his legs. They had been mostly spared, save the cuts from falling in the grave earlier and the slight throb in his right ankle from John ramming it into the wall. There was little more to do for it than wrap it with an ace bandage. Doing so quickly and efficiently, Sam carefully pulled on his clothes.

Leaving the bathroom after straightening everything, he headed back to his room. Placing the dirty clothes into the bottom of his duffel (thank goodness there hadn't been any blood this time) and the kit back into the nightstand, Sam crawled into bed. Flicking off the light, he lay in the silence and silently wished that Dean was here.

**END OF CHAPTER**

**Emotional? I hope so. I just wanted to make sure you all understood this is anger is on John's behalf, not Sam's. Also, any first aid treatment Sam gives himself now (and in the future) is based off of research, so don't take it as 100% truthful. I'm as bad at research as Dean. ;)**

**Review?**

**Eris-R-Renee**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did…well, a lot of things would be different. I also do not own the places the Winchesters visit.

Ages this chapter:

Dean= 17

Sam= 13

_**Envy is the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or situation.**_

**WASHINGTON: **

It was cold in Washington. Cold and rainy. Sam shivered in his thin hoodie, wrapping it tighter around his frame. Dean was leaning against the outside of the Impala, looking perfectly comfortable in his leather jacket, surrounded by the harsh wind and rain. Their dad was inside the cozy cottage in front of them, interviewing a suspect and his family. Sam laid his head on his knees, wrapping his arms around them. Luckily he got to stay in the car. Dean had insisted he wait, on account to the recent broken rib he had suffered from a 'hunt'. The elder Winchester didn't want his brother getting sick. Sam let a sigh slip, hoping that maybe John would hurry up. Suddenly Dean was climbing into the car, shaking his hair like a dog. Sam tossed a towel at his head.

"Thanks Sam."

Dean quickly dried his hair and wiped off his jacket, tossing the towel to their dad, who had climbed into the driver's seat. His truck was out of commission for a few days as the brakes needed to be replaced. Sam hated whoever sabotaged his dad's truck. He didn't want John driving in the Impala; it was supposed to be a safe-haven. John started the classic car and pulled onto the deserted main road, high tailing it to their motel. Dean gave him a sideways glance.

"Was he not the skinwalker?"

"Yeah, he was."

If it was possible, Dean appeared more confused.

"Then why are we headin' back to the motel?"

"I'm dropping you off."

Sam looked up, eyeing the surprised face of his brother and the blank face of his father. This wasn't going to be pretty, the teen decided. He'd probably get the brunt of the misplaced anger later tonight. Sam bit his lip.

"Why!?"

"Dean, I need that truck. You'll stay and fix the brakes. Sam and I got the skinwalker."

"Sam's never dealt with a skinwalker before!"

"Dean, you're staying and that's final."

Dean's jaw clenched and his eyes moved to look out the window.

"Yes sir."

Sam looked down at his lap, fingers messing with the bottom of his hoodie. It would be a long hunt.

**AT THE SUSPECT'S HOUSE:**

Sam followed his father silently, hands snug in the front pocket of his hoodie. His fingers gently ran over the cool, silver metal of the knife he was carrying. Sam could feel the comfortable press of his Berretta against his lower back. It was loaded with silver bullets, the only thing that could completely kill a shapeshifter AKA a skinwalker. There was a difference, Sam supposed. Shapeshifters were most commonly a person who changed to an animal of some sort. Skinwalkers were humans who had the strange ability to steal other human's faces. They were called skinwalkers because when they were done with one person's face, they peeled it off like snakeskin. Really nasty.

"Sam."

"Yessir?"

John lifted his chin in a sharp nod. Sam understood the sign and slid his gun out of its secure position, flicking the safety off. Watching his father for any following signals, he crept behind the elder man into the house. They made it through the kitchen and the dining room, heading to the living room. John swung the door open and Sam resisted the urge to gag.

The skinwalker, wearing the face of bank manager Michael Lewis, was kneeling over the dying body of Carrie Lewis, Michael's wife. The family dog was lying in the corner, completely gutted. John lifted his Browning and took a shot. The shapeshifter stood, face half off. It hissed, leaping at John and knocking him backwards into a wall. Sam lifted his Berretta and took a shot, nailing the creature in the leg. It howled and leapt on him. Sam remembered no more.

**WITH JOHN AND SAM/WHEN THEY WAKE UP:**

Sam woke slowly, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear the cloudy vision he was getting. They were still in the living room and there was a light on in the corner. The skinwalker was nowhere to be found. Sam tested his bounds, thankful that the skinwalker at least tied them up in chairs instead of the floor.

"Dad?"

No reply. Sam bit his lip, taking in the room as he fiddled with the rope tying his wrists together. He spotted their weapons on a nearby table and he nearly groaned out loud. No weapons, no dad, and no chance of calling Dean for backup. He wouldn't have a way to get here anyway. Unless he managed to fix the brakes already. He was broken from his thoughts by the door to the room opening. Carrie walked in, clothes covered in blood. She grinned, twirling around.

"What do you think? Convincing enough?"

She walked towards Sam, sparing John a glance to make sure he was still unconscious.

"I knew I had to ditch Michael's skin when I only saw the two of you. The other boy isn't here, the one with the striking green eyes."

Carrie hummed in appreciation, dreamy look on her face.

"The people I could pick up with those eyes."

Sam grimaced at the thought of his brother being worn like a favorite jacket. Carrie turned to him, running a finger down his cheek.

"You're not bad looking yourself. Such smooth, young skin."

Her fingers threaded through his hair.

"Beautiful hair, so soft…and look at your eyes."

She pushed the hair from Sam's face, kneeling in front of him and staring into his eyes. Sam clenched his jaw, trying to move his leg so he could kick her in the face. She ignored his struggles, gazing into his eyes with a single-minded intensity that scared Sam.

"They're so full of pain…so deep and endless. I could lure in countless people with these eyes…so needy, calling out for help."

Sam averted his eyes, catching a glimpse of a figure sneaking past a window. _Dean!_ Sam turned from the window to the skinwalker.

"What do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Sam raised a brow.

"I meant besides people's faces."

Carrie made a little 'o' shape with her mouth.

"Sassy. I like that."

Carrie leaned closer to Sam, comfortably resting her arms on his lap and leaning against him as though he were a couch.

"I need some money. I'm tired of walking everywhere and stealing everything I need…I want to be able to buy a house, somewhere I can keep my collection."

Sam shivered in disgust. Carrie leaned closer to him.

"I think I'll wear you next, pretty boy."

"Like hell you will!"

Carrie barley had a chance to stand and turn before she was hit dead in the eye with a silver bullet. She crumpled to the ground and Sam looked to the doorway. Dean lowered his gun, grinning at Sam.

"Hey little brother."

Sam gave him a small smile. Dean rushed over and flipped out his pocket knife, sawing through Sam's bindings and then John's. The man fell forward, still unconscious.

"Sam, grab the weapons."

The teen nodded, picking up the pile of things pick pocketed from John and Sam by the skinwalker. He followed Dean outside, opening the back door of the Impala. Sam dumped the weapons in the trunk as Dean got their dad situated. They both climbed into the car.

"Where's the truck?"

"At the hotel. I haven't fixed the breaks."

Sam nodded, glancing in the review mirror. Someone was following them.

**AT THE HOTEL:**

Dean had gotten their dad comfortable in his bed, declaring he just needed to sleep it off. Sam had spent the whole time next to the kitchen window, looking out. He knew he should tell Dean because Dean could take care of it. But Sam could take of it to, he wasn't incompetent. He just needed a plan.

"Sam, I'm going to grab the weapons out of the trunk. Be back in a sec."

"Ok."

Dean disappeared out the door and reappeared in the parking lot. As Sam watched his brother, he grabbed the spare set of the Impala's keys and his phone. He turned from the window to tuck his feet into his shoes and when he looked up, Dean was being hauled into a strange car. Sam stood, opening the hotel room door and dashing out. The car was just pulling out of the parking lot when Sam started the Impala and peeled out of the parking lot. Being subtle wasn't an issue, the skinwalker wanted Sam to follow them. He was walking into a trap and he knew it.

**BACK AT THE LEWIS HOUSE:**

Sam climbed out of the Impala, locking the doors and moving to grab a gun from the trunk. He quickly loaded it with silver bullets and stalked up to the front door. Quietly, he opened the door and snuck into the kitchen. Looking through the crack in the door, he watched the skinwalker talk to Dean.

"I lost your brother five streets away. So I have some time to enjoy myself."

The skinwalker, wearing Michael, hadn't lost Sam at all. The teen had slipped out of the Impala and followed on foot to get the location. He'd then run back to the Impala and broke the posted speed limit getting here.

"You killed my sister! We just wanted to get away and have a nice place to keep our faces…we would have let your family be, even though we knew you were hunters!"

Dean snorted.

"Sure. And I have tea with the Queen of England every Thursday."

The skinwalker reached out, wrapped a hand around Dean's neck and threw him into a wall. Dean collapsed on the ground, moaning. The skinwalker stalked over to him and Sam used the opportunity to slip through the door and cock his gun. Michael turned to look at him, eyeing the gun in his hands.

"No one touches my brother."

The shot hit the skinwalker straight in the chest. It fell to the ground, clutching its chest and spluttering. Sam ignored it, walking to Dean and hoisting him up. The eldest Winchester groaned when he tried to put weight on his right ankle. Sam turned to the skinwalker and shot it between the eyes just to be sure. He then helped Dean out to the car, heading to the hospital despite Dean's mumbled objections.

**AT THE HOSPITAL: **

Sam was sitting beside Dean when his father came in. The man appeared calm, though it was obvious he was worried. He moved to his eldest's side and grabbed his hand, rubbing it gently. John looked up, catching Sam's eyes.

"Tell me what happened. Right. Now."

So the teen did. He ran through Dean saving them and driving home, seeing someone following them. Dean going out and getting caught. He hesitated when he explained driving the Impala and then quickly told him the other skinwalker was dead. John's jaw was clenched and he refused to look at Sam.

"Go back to the hotel. Clean the weapons, pack up the bags. As soon as Dean can get out of here we're leaving."

Sam knew better than to argue, even though he wanted to. He wanted to stay with his brother but that wasn't allowed. Not when John was so angry. Sam moved to the door, only stopping when John tossed him the Impala keys.

"Wash it."

Sam nodded and left.

**THE NEXT MORNING:**

Sam woke slowly, blinking as his eyes got used to the light. He was in the bathroom apparently. Gently he sat up, rubbing his sore sternum. His whole body was sore and his left ankle was throbbing. Probably sprained, the teen decided. As he slowly stood up, the door to the bathroom opened.

"Hurry up. I'm leaving to pick Dean up in 10 and you better be behind me when I leave."

"Yessir."

Sam looked to the floor, careful not to put weight on his ankle. His father reached out and placed a hand on Sam's left shoulder, forcing him to shift to his left. He bit his lip, trying not to make a sound. John watched him silently.

"You should be envious of your brother Sammy boy, cause you ain't nothing compared to him. Remember that and don't put your brother in danger again."

"Yessir."

John left the doorway and Sam leaned against the wall. He wouldn't put Dean in danger again. Not even if he had to die to keep him safe.

**END OF CHAPTER:**

**Okay, the ending sucked a bit. Okay a lot. Anyway, hope you guys kinda liked it.**

**Review please?**

**Eris-R-Renee**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did…well, a lot of things would be different. I also do not own the places the Winchesters visit.

Ages this chapter:

Dean= 18

Sam= 14

_**Greed is the desire for material wealth or gain. It is also called Avarice or Covetousness.**_

**NEVADA: **

Sam was excited. Today was Dean's 18th birthday. The eldest son had already said a present wasn't necessary; he above all knew how tight money was. Sam has nodded along but he has already had 200 bucks saved up. That was four months ago, when Sam had first asked his brother what he wanted for his birthday. He'd been working for Bobby all summer, eager to get his brother something worthwhile for his birthday.

Sam loved Dean. He didn't know when it had started or rather, when it had escalated and grown to such an extreme. Sam knew he'd always loved his brother as his brother. Recently he had come to the conclusion it was more than that. Instead of daydreaming about girls like Dean had said he would…he was daydreaming about Dean. Sam knew it was wrong but he loved his brother. Besides, he would never act upon the thoughts and feelings. He knew it would hurt his brother and he didn't want to do anything to harm his most important person.

Either way, he wanted to get Dean a really nice present. He knew his father had gotten Dean a new fake id, one that said Dean was 21. The best gift Sam could think of was some spending money to go the 100 miles to Vegas. Besides that, he managed to get Dean away from the Impala long enough to wash and wax the classic car. He'd had to borrow some money from John…not that he knew Sam took it. He had the intentions to replace it when he could and he made sure to take it out of his father's alcohol stash.

"Sam!"

The brunette looked up from the envelope in his hands, a small smile on his face. Dean came bounding into the room, munching on a piece of cake.

"Dude, are you sure you aren't a girl? This cake is _amazing!_"

Sam laughed as his brother tried to get some frosting off his nose. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling as he waved a forkful of cake in front of Sam's face.

"Eat it Samantha, you know you want to."

Sam laughed and obediently opened his mouth, letting Dean feed him the cake. As Dean shoveled another bite of cake into his own mouth, Sam licked the frosting off his lips. He had to admit, he did make a pretty good cake.

"Dean! Come out here son!"

Dean pounced up off the bed and Sam couldn't resist laughing; his brother was practically vibrating with energy. He followed Dean out of the bedroom, clutching the envelope in his hands. He slid it into his jacket when they came to the living room, hoping to keep the envelope out of his father's sight. Dean sat down on the kitchen table, swinging his feet like he was 4 again. John smiled at Dean.

"I have a gift for you, son."

Dean paused in his bouncing.

"You didn't have to Dad."

John placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I wanted to Dean."

They both grinned and then John handed Dean a slim envelope. Dean opened it quickly, tipping it so the contents would spill into his hand. He flipped the id over, reading the information. His eyes practically light up when he saw the age.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing at the look on Dean's face. Dean stood, pulling out his wallet and removing the current id and putting in the new one. He then dashed to the bedroom and was heard tossing things around, mumbling to himself. John stood, moving to the bedroom. Sam stayed, as expected of him and listened to the faint murmuring and laughing of father and son.

Within 10 minutes Dean was leaving the hotel room and Sam followed out the door, closing it behind him. John was already pouring over his journal so Sam knew he'd be safe to give Dean his present. Dean was circling the Impala, eyeing it appreciatively. Then he turned, catching Sam in a noggie.

"I know it was you Sam, don't even try to deny it."

By the time Dean was done rubbing Sam's head, both were laughing. Dean let his brother go and the youngest lightly shook his hair while he fished around in his jacket. Dean had opened the door to the Impala and was placing his phone on the dashboard.

"So where are you going?"

Dean pursed his lips.

"Well, there's this nice little bar at the edge of town. Think I might head that way."

Sam waited until Dean was in the car and had rolled down the window. The eldest raised a brow at his brother.

"What is it Sam?"

"I have a present for you."

Dean smiled.

"You didn't have to Sammy."

Sam smiled lightly and pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Dean and then tucked his hands into his pockets, watching through his bangs as his brother opened the gift. Dean pulled out the cash, quickly counting. He looked up at Sam, eyes wide.

"How the hell did you get 500 bucks?"

Sam smiled.

"I worked for Bobby last summer."

It wasn't the only thing he did. Most of the money was from doing other people's homework during the school year. Sam had also saved Christmas money from Pastor Jim and Missouri. Most of the time Sam would have spent it on a new hoodie or some new notebooks but Dean…Dean was more important than any of it. Speaking of Dean, he was smiling at Sam and _God,_ he looked like he was about to cry.

"Sammy…"

"You deserve it Dean. Go to Vegas. It's only about an hour and half away. Have fun."

Dean nodded, giving Sam his shit-happy grin. He turned the key to the Impala and it roared to life.

"See you later Sammy."

"Bye Dean."

He looked so in his element as he pulled out of the parking lot, window rolled down and dark shades on. Sam could still hear the Led Zeppelin as Dean turned the street corner. Sam smiled to himself, knowing for certain his saving was worth it. He turned to the hotel, walking into the room and locking the door behind him. He turned around, slightly shocked to see his father standing right in front of him.

"Sam."

"Yes sir?"

John placed a hand on the left side of Sam's head, flat against the door. Sam bowed his head, looking to see if he could escape to the right. He couldn't; the wall was so close his shoulder was pressed against it snuggly. Sam looked up through his bangs, watching his father.

"Where is my money?"

"Sir?"

John's jaw clenched and his right hand fisted in Sam's shirt. He picked him up, feet dangling off the floor and proceeded to bang him against the door. Sam clenched his teeth, which only ignited the new pounding in his head.

"Don't lie to me, boy. Dean knows better than to get into my stash. What did you do with it?"

Sam bit his lip.

"I t-took it to wash the I-impala."

John paused, finally lowering Sam to the floor. He turned from his son, making it only two steps before he turned around and punched the boy. Sam fell to the floor, curling into a ball and protecting his head. For a few minutes there were a volley of sharp kicks to Sam's stomach and then his back. Sam lost track of time, lost track of the kicks and the punches.

There was so much pain, so much that it felt as though he were being pulled into pieces, being split apart and ripped at the seams. At some point he failed to protect his head and then there was blood matting his brunette hair to his pale face. Within 30 minutes the beating had stopped and John had left the room, heading to a bar no doubt.

Sam lay behind the door, still curled in a protective ball. Slowly he uncurled, laying in silence for so long he almost expected Dean to come back. When he finally had the energy to climb into the shower and wash away the blood and soothe the emerging bruises, he felt a sense of happiness despite it all. Dean was out, having fun and being happy.

And Dean meant more than anything.

**END OF CHAPTER:**

**Apparently I can't end chapters. Hope it didn't suck to bad. I'm kinda down because I've only got two reviews for this story…this fandom is so HUGE I thought surely more people would be interested. Eh, oh well. A review is a review :D I'm just glad people are actually reading this. Oh, and to the anonymous reviewer from last chapter, thanks for reviewing!**

**Review please?**

**Eris-R-Renee**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did…well, a lot of things would be different. I also do not own the places the Winchesters visit.

Ages this chapter:

Dean=18

Sam=14

_**Gluttony is an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires.**_

**SOMEWHERE BETWEEN TENNESSEE AND SOUTH CAROLINA:**

Sam didn't know exactly where they were. He didn't remember passing any '_Welcome to Tennessee_' signs however he had been sleeping the last leg of the trip, so they could have made it to Tennessee by now for all he knew. He couldn't ask Dean either, as the elder teen had fallen asleep 2 hours before Sam himself had. All he knew was that his father had pulled into another crappy hotel that had seen better days.

It had a cheesy name, something along the lines of '_Cheap Comfort_' or something equally ridiculous. The brunette could really care less as he knew they were only staying for a night. It would be just enough time for his father to catch up on some sleep so they could head out to Rhode Island in the morning. Sam didn't really care about any of that anyway. He had bigger problems at the moment.

Like the vicious tearing and rolling feeling in his stomach. Clenching his jaw tightly, the teen rolled onto his side and curled into a ball. He used one hand to drag the thin (and no doubt extremely dirty) hotel sheet higher onto his body so it rested on his shoulders. John was out getting coffee and Dean had gone with him, leaving the youngest Winchester alone.

Sam wanted to use this time to eat food but he knew there wasn't any in the hotel room. It had been two days since his father had feed him, claiming it was a special training program designed specifically for his youngest. Sam didn't dream of telling Dean that his idol was intentionally starving his little brother. For one, John would kill him before he had the chance. There was also the fact that Dean wouldn't believe him.

John was to all-knowing, all-powerful for Dean to go against. Besides, Sam knew his older brother yearned for their father's love and acknowledgment. Sure, the teen knew his brother loved him and was always going to look out for him but that didn't change the fact that Dean excelled at this lifestyle mostly because he wanted the admiration and prideful smile from John. Sam was okay with that.

He was also okay with the knowledge that John did indeed have great pride in having Dean as his son. It wasn't hard to see that the elder son was the favorite son, the one that got things right the first time and excelled without being told to. Dean seemed to be made for this lifestyle, this future of fighting monsters and never settling down to build a real life, a real identity.

Sam wasn't angry with Dean because he was better. He could never be angry with his brother. He loved him to much and not just in the brotherly way. Besides, the only negative emotion he felt towards his brother was envy. That wasn't a problem anyway. He was only envious because he was happy for the success of the older boy. Sam could never be angry or upset with his brother, not for real because he knew that Dean didn't deserve it.

Sam did. He deserved every bit of anger and bitter resentment that was ever thrown his way. After all, he was the reason his mother was dead. He was the reason they were always on the road, unable to settle down and constantly putting themselves in danger. Sam was a horrible brother for robbing Dean of his chance of a normal, happy life. For that he was sorry.

The young Winchester was cut off from his thoughts when a sharp stab of pain tore through his stomach. He had gone with little to no food before but it had never been while he was on a hard, strict training regimen. The door to the room opened with a creak and Sam shut his eyes, hoping to convince his family he was asleep. He heard the soft sound of steps approaching him and then the soft intake and outtake of breath of whoever was now kneeling next to his bed.

"Sam. Come on dude, wake up for a sec."

Sam blinked slowly, hoping to convince his brother he had really been asleep. Dean smiled gently and the younger boy knew he had convinced his elder brother. The older Winchester ran a hand through his little brother's hair, gently tugging out knots. Sam hummed in appreciation, glad from the feel of Dean's strong fingers running through his hair. It was bliss.

"Dad and I are going to get some groceries and do some research. Turns out there's a ghost haunting a house about two streets down."

"Need help?"

Sam felt bad but he desperately hoped his brother would say no. The way his stomach was rebelling he didn't think he could pretend he was fine in the company of his ever-observant brother. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, you stay here n' get some sleep."

"M'kay. Be safe, Dean."

A short grin.

"Always."

Sam let his eyes drift shut as Dean stood, grabbed his wallet (presumably) and then left the room, the door closing with a soft click after him. It was silent a few minutes before Sam began to drift off, thoughts slowing enough for him to slip into the comforting folds of sleep.

**ABOUT 2 HOURS LATER:**

When Sam woke, he took a quick shower. His stomach still hurt but he found he could at least uncurl from the ball he was in without screaming from the pain. After showering, he dressed and sat on the edge of his bed. He was so hungry. Eyes moving to his duffle, he bit his lip gently. He knew that he had about 10 bucks saved up from the last time they'd stopped at Pastor Jim's and he'd done some chores. Sam briefly wondered if it was worth it to spend his last cash to buy crappy food from a vending machine in the off chance his father would find out and beat him senseless. When his stomach growled and rumbled he quickly retrieved the cash and left the room.

After getting as much food as he could from the machine with only $10, Sam made the trek back to the room quickly. He estimated about 30 minutes before Dean and John got back so he quickly tore open the first wrapper, eagerly biting into the honey bun. Soon he had worked through two honey buns, a pack of M&Ms, and a bag of Doritos.

Sam knew he should stop. He felt full, which meant he didn't need to keep eating. Yet he couldn't help it. The teen had been starving for over three days and with the way his father was acting, who knew when he would get to eat again. The smart, logical part of Sam knew that eating all this after such a period without food could lead to nasty consequences. He continued to eat through a bag of sour gummy worms none the less.

The door opened and Sam froze with half a gummy hanging from his mouth. Dean came in first and the elder teen quirked a brow.

"Are you PMSing, Samantha?"

John came in next and Sam knew he was screwed by the smoldering look in his father's eyes. The man's face betrayed nothing but Sam knew and in the next instance he was on his feet, rushing to the bathroom. Dean winced at the sounds of his baby brother retching, moving to comfort him. John's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Go take care of the ghost Dean. I'll stay with Sam."

"You sure Dad?"

The gruff ex-Marine nodded, pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch. Dean shrugged, eyeing the bathroom a few times as he gathered the necessary equipment for a salt-n-burn. Tugging the duffle over his shoulder, he moved to the door. He sent the bathroom door one more glance before leaving the room.

**WHEN DEAN GETS BACK/1 HOUR LATER:**

Sam kept his eyes closed as the hotel door opened and then shut. There was a muffled thump as Dean dropped his duffle on the floor and the sounds of the teen tugging off his boots. Sam listened as his brother padded across the room, kneeling next to his bed and reaching with a hand to run it through his hair. The hand lingered briefly on his forehead and Sam knew Dean was checking for a fever. Satisfied that his younger brother was in good health, the hunter moved to the bathroom and disappeared inside.

Sam resisted the urge to groan as he shifted into a more comfortable position, his stomach aching. Throwing up and then getting used as a kicking bag does that to you. The teen forced himself to remain on his stomach. He knew if he lay on his back, his shirt would ride up and reveal the bruises and then Dean would ask questions. He couldn't have that. John would be found out.

Sam sighed softly. He had been stupid, eating all that food. The brunette had known, logically, that the food wouldn't agree with him yet he ate it anyway. Besides, his father was right. He was weak and needed to toughen up. He was chubby and uncoordinated and slow because of it.

Food would just have to go.

**END OF CHAPTER:**

**Hope you all liked this chapter. **** Sorry it's so short. **

**Review please?**

**Eris-R-Renee**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did…well, a lot of things would be different. I also do not own the places the Winchesters visit.

Ages this chapter:

Dean= 20

Sam= 16

_**Sloth is the avoidance of physical work.**_

**NEW MEXICO: **

Sam was content. For one of the first times in a long time he was content with his life. His brother and father were out on a hunt, looking for a chupacabra. That was fine with Sam. He had just finished his junior year and with it, some ridiculous exams. He'd taken all AP classes this year, despite his father's wishes and had even taken an auto class instead of PE. That had pleased Dean.

He did, however, miss Dean. Sam's family had been gone for a week now and weren't due for another three days. If he were to be honest the only way he would ever be truly content physically, mentally, and emotionally would be if Dean was with him. Sam often wondered how it would feel if Dean wrapped his arms around him, not in a hug but as an embrace of lovers.

It didn't really matter either way. He never expected to be truly content, not when it relied on making Dean unhappy. Dean would be unhappy, if he knew how Sam felt towards him. Besides, Sam was happy if Dean was happy. He was glad just to have the pleasure of traveling with Dean and not having Dean hate him. John said Dean would hate him if he knew everything Sam had done. Sam knew what his father had been telling him was true.

Sam killed his mother. She died in _his _room, on _his _ceiling, burning into a crisp. John had been forced to save Sam instead of his mother and it was all Sam's fault. Mary deserved to live, deserved to raise Dean within a safe, apple-pie life with a pleasant John by her side. Sam took all that away from them, from Dean and Mary and John. He was the reason his family fell apart. Who's to say his evil wouldn't spread and infect Dean? He didn't want to hurt Dean, he never wanted to do anything hurtful to Dean.

Dean had been forced to raise him since he was a child. He was only 4 when he was forced to grow up fast. Dean was taking care of Sam, taking care of John, and taking care of everything Mary would have been taking care of. He cooked, he cleaned, and he balanced the meager money John gave him and Sam when he left for a hunt.

Sam sighed, shaking his head as though he were trying to rid his mind of nasty thoughts. He had just finished some tough exams, scored highest in his class, and had this nice rented house to himself. There was a half-stocked kitchen, a TV, and an internet connection. Sam slid out of his bed, eager to get to the warm comfort of the living room. _I think I'll start with some cartoons. _

**THREE DAYS LATER:**

Sam lifted his head from the couch, looking at the unlocking door. The TV was turned on to a historical movie about the Knights Templar. He was curled in his thin green hoodie and blue flannel pajama pants that used to belong to Dean. Once the door was open, Dean walked in first. He had his duffel pulled over his shoulder and his other wrist was wrapped in an ace bandage. Sam stood, taking the bag from Dean.

"Thanks Sam."

The teen nodded lightly. John came in and kicked the door shut. He tossed his bag at Sam, who didn't even stumble under the weight. He lowered his head and walked to his father's room, dropping the bag on the bed and pulling out the clothes. He quickly emptied the duffle and then stowed said duffle in the closet. Then he grabbed Dean's bag and went to their shared room. Sam quickly unpacked his brother's bag as well and then straightened his bed.

"Sam!"

The teen looked up from Dean's comforter, heading out of the room and to the kitchen. When he arrived, John was standing in front of the sink. Next to it was a pile of nicely stacked dirty dishes.

"Why aren't the dishes done?"

"Sorry sir."

"And the laundry isn't done either. What did you do all week?"

Dean came in, dropping a sack of laundry on the floor.

"It's okay Dad. I'll go do the laundry now and Sam can do the dishes while I'm gone."

John clenched his jaw and nodded. Dean smiled at Sam, ruffling his hair and leaving the room. He grabbed a few more clothes items that needed washing and then left the house. Sam didn't move from his spot in the middle of the room, looking at his feet as the Impala drove away.

"Sam."

"Yessir?"

"Follow me."

"Yessir."

Sam followed his father down the hall and into the basement. It had been locked before John left and Sam hadn't been in it before. Now he saw why. The room was small and damp with air so thick Sam could practically taste it. One wall was covered floor to ceiling with boxes. The other three were bare, though there was a suspicious growth along a few spots.

"Kneel."

Sam kneeled, extremely grateful he was wearing jeans. Still, he could feel the cold floor through the material. John turned to one of the boxes, opening it up. Sam kept his gaze trained on the floor while his father shifted through the contents.

"Shirt off."

Quickly obeying, Sam clenched his eyes shut. Ever since the werewolves in Michigan, his father had taken a liking to cutting his skin. With baited breath he awaited the first cut. When it didn't come Sam turned to look at his father. John moved to stand in front of him, pushing him down with a sharp kick to the chest. John kneeled down, resting his knees on either side of Sam's waist. With almost gentle precision, he made a short cut on Sam's stomach.

Another cut followed almost immediately. Sam's stomach muscles began to quiver from his tense form by the tenth cut. John didn't show any signs of stopping soon, though he did stop a few times to dig his finger into one of the cuts. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to fade into a safe part of his mind. He had almost succeeded when his pants were yanked down. It startled him into looking up at his father, who was now dragging the bloody blade along his hip bone. Sam bucked, getting only a sharp slap to the face.

"Samuel, hold still and this will go a lot quicker."

Sam whimpered, letting his father make three sharp cuts to his hipbone. John stood, swiftly removing his belt. Sam rolled onto his stomach with some prodding from the toe of John's boot. There was a slight sting from the cuts on his stomach before a deep ache on his back and thighs took over. The belt buckle was causing dark bruises and welts were appearing from the leather. Finally, after a few minutes of constant hits, John finished and began to move up the stairs. Sam began to stand, body throbbing.

"Stay, Sam. You're sleeping down here tonight. I'll let you out tomorrow while Dean grabs breakfast."

In response, the youngest Winchester stopped moving. John turned and left the room, locking the door behind him. Sam sighed, willing his body to stop throbbing. Maybe if he had just done the chores, this wouldn't have happened. Sam groaned.

_I am such an idiot. _

**END CHAPTER:**

**I was at a loss how to end this. I hope I did an okay job. Also, I understand everyone is eager for the big reveal…as such, I've decided to update WAYYY before schedule and do the last two abuse chapters today. Hope this pleases everyone. Also, I understand some readers are upset with the amount of abuse…originally, this was to be a seven shot done on the 7 Deadly Sins with no conclusion to the abuse…so sorry that it's been drug out, but that was how it was written before I decided to continue it. **

**Review please!**

**Eris-R-Renee**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did…well, a lot of things would be different. I also do not own the places the Winchesters visit.

Ages this chapter:

Dean=21

Sam=17

**WARNING: This chapter is much worse than those previously, but it is necessary to understand the future chapters. Incest, no-consensual sex, etc. **

_**Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body.**_

**IN PLATTE, WYOMING: **

Dean was sleeping in the passenger's seat, head resting against the window as little puffs of air caused the glass to fog. Sam sat behind him, head also resting on the window. He wasn't sleeping, merely watching his brother as the man slept. John cast his youngest a look in the review mirror, grumbling under his breath. The hunter pulled into a motel, one that was rather nice compared to their usual. He parked the car, heading to the office. Sam climbed out as well, leaving Dean sleeping in the front seat. Leaning himself against the trunk, he waited for his dad to come back. John walked up, popping the trunk and grabbing his duffel.

"Sam, grab the rest. And don't forget to wake Dean."

"Yes sir."

John disappeared into room 9, near the back of the lot. Sam slung his duffel, Dean's, and the weapons bag over his shoulders. He closed the trunk quickly, moving to open Dean's door. The man half tumbled out of the car, head hitting Sam's knee as the younger teen tried to catch his brother.

"Dean!"

"Wa?"

Green eyes blinked open slowly and a lazy grin crossed the handsome face. Sam bit his lip and looked away, helping his brother sit up.

"We're at the hotel. Come on."

"Alright, I'm coming Sammy."

Dean clambered out of the '67 Chevy Impala, pulling on his leather jacket and following Sam to their room.

"Sam, I could get a bag-"

"I got it Dean."

The brunette rolled his eyes, pushing open the motel room door and holding it open for his little brother. Sam moved in quickly, dropping the weapons bag on the counter. He turned, tripping over his sneaker and almost tumbling into the floor. Luckily Dean caught him, arms wrapped around his little brother's waist to hold him steady.

"Watch your step bitch."

"Shut up jerk."

Dean took his bag from his brother, missing the blush on his face. Sam bowed his head, bangs falling far over his eyes and mostly covering his nose. It was a shock the kid could even see. He followed Dean to their room down the hall, taking the bed away from the door. Dean always took the bed next to the door; it was an unspoken agreement. John walked past the room, motioning for them to follow. They all sat in the living room.

"Sam, how did your research go?"

Sam sat up straighter when John turned his gaze on him.

"All signs point to a wendigo. It seems to be fairly new to the area. There have been two cycles, each time three taken and never found. All were in the same 25 miles of the entrance to the Medicine Bow National Forest here in Platte."

John hummed, taking a map out of his bag.

"Alright. I'm going to do some research. Dean-"

The brunette looked up.

"-go get some cash. We'll need to buy supplies. Take the Impala."

"Yes!"

Dean jumped up, taking the keys from his dad's hand and rushing out the door. John's truck was with Bobby, getting fixed on account of a recent car crash with a light pole. They were down to one car, which was unusual. John and Sam waited in silence as the Impala roared to life and Dean drove off. Once he'd left John turned away from Sam, grabbing his wallet.

"Don't leave the room."

"Okay."

John cuffed Sam's ear, hard. The boy winced slightly, a small buzzing filling the ear.

"What was that, boy?"

"Yes sir."

John nodded to himself and walked out of the room. Sam sighed, falling back onto the couch and closing his eyes. Maybe he would get a little nap?

**WITH SAM/ABOUT 30 MINUTES LATER:**

Sam walked into his room, rubbing his eyes. He hadn't been able to find sleep but that was alright. The lingering feeling of Dean's arms around his waist had him blushing slightly. He swung the door to his and Dean's bedroom shut, walking to his bed. Taking a glance at Dean's bed and realizing he'd already managed to throw clothes on the floor, he sighed. Sam walked over, picking up a shirt and a pair of pants. He folded both, setting them on the bed after he sniffed them.

"Hmm."

Glancing around as though he thought he'd get caught, Sam walked over to his bed and sat on the edge of it. He tugged his pants and boxers down to his ankles so he would be able to pull them up quickly in cause of discovery. He closed his eyes, picturing Dean to the best of his ability. Which was to a pretty amazing detail. Sam spent a lot of time watching Dean. The way his green eyes sparkled in mischief and happiness, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle pleasantly. His brown hair would always be rustling slightly, despite the short length. It reflected the golden glow of the sun and was a pretty auburn color in the dark.

Then there was Dean's skin. Sam groaned, giving a rough tug on his dick at the mere thought. The golden skin was so much tanner than Sam's. It was pulled taunt over muscles and thick tendons, a beautiful sight. The skin was smooth and unblemished save the few scars from hunting. Sam continued to think of Dean, thoughts roaming over his body as his orgasm approached. He was so lost to the feelings he didn't hear the door open.

John walked quickly into the room, noting that Sam wasn't in the living room. He headed to the boys' room to get Sam's help packing for the upcoming hunt. The door was closed so he opened it slightly, just enough so he could see in. What he saw had him biting his lip. Sam had moved from sitting on the edge of his bed to laying on it. He was buckling into his own hand, head thrown back as he panted and moaned. His dark brown locks were sticking to his sweating skin and John felt a twitch from his own cock at the sight.

"D-dean!"

John's eyebrows drew together and he growled angrily. Immediately the enraged father stalked into the bedroom, pulling his youngest to his feet by his long, brown hair. Sam cried out in surprise and pain. His pants and boxers were still around his ankles and he tripped over them when John pushed him forward to the ground. The teen's head bounced against the nearby wall, his nose cracking slightly. John kneeled down to his side, burying his fingers deep in his locks and hauling him up so they were eye-to-eye.

"You disgusting freak. Killing your mother wasn't enough? Now you have to go after your brother and drag him into your corrupt filth!?"

Sam whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as his father's fist slammed into his jaw, causing it to crack painfully.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you boy!"

Wide hazel eyes opened in time to watch his father drop him to the ground and kick him. They stayed trained on his figure as John repeatedly brought his foot back and then sent it flying into his son's side. The brunette lay on the ground, doing nothing but clenching his fist and trying not to scream out loud. He had learned that nothing would stop his father; nothing would cease his anger. John continued to wail on Sam, yelling insults and rhetorical questions. Finally he stopped, dropping to his knees beside his child's prone form. With gentle fingers he wiped the brown hair from his eyes.

"You want company don't you, Sammy?"

Sam whimpered at the use of his nickname. Only Dean was allowed to call him Sammy. John's fingers grew rough as they trailed down Sam's face to tightly grip his bruising jaw between a strong thumb and forefinger.

"Answer me boy!"

"N-no sir."

His father sneered.

"Then why were you calling your brother's name? Huh!? You sick, ungrateful brat! I'll give you what you want."

John pulled Sam's boxers and jeans off his ankles, where they had rested since the beating began. He threw them to the side as he tore off his son's shirt. Picking Sam up by his neck, the hunter threw him onto the bed. The teen on the bed shook his head, trying to clear the ringing from it colliding with the bed post. To late his realized his older, stronger, more experienced father had stripped and climbed atop him. Sam tried to twist away from him, face pressed into the mattress. His father was all muscle and strength both from hunting and his days in the Marines.

"D-dad…ple-ease. N-n-no."

"Shut up!"

With no warning he forced his already hard cock into Sam's unprepared hole. A scream tore from Sam's throat, so loud John clamped his hand over his mouth to cut it off. They were still in a motel and he couldn't have people calling the cops. Full of bitter anger and resentment, John pounded into his son. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, arms trapped at his sides by his father's knees. His body ached and he felt blood dripping from his nose, split lip, and his ass. How long had he been waiting for his brother to do this? No matter how unlikely it seemed, Sam had been saving himself for Dean since he had begun to think of him in such positions.

"This what you wanted Sammy? You wanted a good fuck, huh!?"

A muffled sob broke through Sam's mouth when John began to moan. Large hands gripped his waist tightly, no doubt leaving bruises. John was so busy ramming into his now freely sobbing son that he didn't hear the door click or his eldest call for him. The next minute seemed to slow. Sam's face twisted to stare at the now open bedroom door, eyes widening in shock, fear, and self-loathing when he saw who stood in the doorway. John too stopped long enough to recognize the form but was not quick enough to avoid the hard punch to the jaw. The hunter rolled off Sam, out cold. The teen immediately curled into himself, arms wrapped around his shaking form.

"Sammy? Sammy, answer me."

The brunette could do nothing but sob and turn his face from his brother. Another figure came to the doorway, taking in the scene with calculating eyes.

"Dean?"

The young adult shifted to look at his friend, standing off the edge of the bed.

"Caleb. I thought you were outside?"

"I was grabbing my bag."

As if to prove himself, the man lifted the duffel in his left hand. Almost immediately he dropped it to the floor, stepping into the room and watching the crying Sam.

"Want me to take care of John?"

Dean nodded numbly, stepping aside to let the family friend heft the naked man up. Caleb left the room, closing the door behind him. Green eyes turned to the shaking form on the bed. Dean sighed in worry and confusion, running a hand through his short hair.

"Sammy…"

He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to run his fingers through his baby brother's hair in a soothing manner. Sam began to calm, sobs turning into hiccups. Eventually the hiccups faded into shallow breaths and he fell into a fitful sleep. Dean sat next to his brother for another minute before standing. Caleb knocked on the door, walking in a moment later.

"I called Bobby. He said we could head to his place."

Dean nodded, scooping his brother in his arms and heading to the bathroom. Caleb quickly moved to open the door for him, remaining in the doorway as Dean began to run a bath for his unconscious brother.

"Thanks Caleb. I just need to get Sam cleaned and pack our bags."

"Alright. I'll drive John and head out now."

Dean nodded. Caleb moved forward to grasp his shoulder in comfort before turning and leaving the room. The eldest Winchester began to gently wash his brother off. There was blood and semen on his body, causing Dean to wince and remember what he'd walked in on. Just how long had this been going on? Dean thought it best not to torment himself with the questions. He wouldn't be able to focus and that wouldn't help Sam at all.

As he cleaned Sam, he took note of all the bruises. Some looked fresh and others looked as though they were just beginning to heal. There were some scars he didn't remember Sam getting on a hunt and Dean caught himself thinking of how long this had been going on for a second time. The teen was much too skinny. His elder brother could see his ribs and his eyes were sunken into his face. Dean wondered how he'd missed Sam's eyes but then he realized his brother's hair was past his shoulders and hung far into his eyes.

With a wet hand he pushed Sam's bangs away from his face, noting the blood trickling down a cut on his forehead. As he cleaned away the blood and bandaged it, Dean watched the soft flutter of dark, elegant eyelashes. His fingers gently caressed Sam's cheek, following the natural curve of his face and brushing his fingertips over thin lips. The man recoiled as if burned, hating himself for doing such a thing after what just happened. What was he thinking?

Dean pulled Sam out of the tub, drying him and placing him on Dean's bed. He packed quickly, keeping out clothes for himself and Sam. Dean dressed first, pulling off the slightly bloody ACDC t-shirt and pulling on a clean Motorhead long-sleeved shirt. Then he dressed Sam, pulling on boxers and a loose black shirt that dwarfed him. For the sake of Bobby and Caleb, Dean managed to get Sam into jeans and a pair of tennis shoes. The shoes were held together by duck tape and Dean reminded himself to get his kid brother a new pair soon.

Within a few minutes he had all the bags in the trunk and Sam in the front seat. Climbing into the driver's seat, he quickly started the Impala and turned out of the parking lot, headed east to South Dakota. They may have been leaving a wendigo to go on a rampage but right now, his brother was more important. His family was more important. His phone rang and he quickly answered, not wanting to wake his sleeping brother.

"Hello?"

"Dean. I just heard from Caleb."

"Bobby?"

"What the hell is goin' on?"

Dean remained silent for a moment, trying to think of what to tell him. Dean himself wasn't quite sure what had happened to his younger brother yet. He'd give him the best he could.

"Something bad. We'll talk when we get there."

"Damn straight. Be safe now, ya hear?"

"Yeah. Bye."

Dean hung up, tossing his phone onto his lap. Sam shifted next to him and Dean spared him a glance. He didn't know exactly what was going on but he was going to find out.

**END OF CHAPTER:**

**And thus the plot thickens/kinda comes to the semi-climax…if that makes any sense. Anyway, obviously this shit is getting serious. Hope you all liked how I had Dean find out about this. I was going to go on a spiel via Sam's POV but then I would have spent 1,000+ words talking about Sam's feeling while getting violated and that would have been quite a bore after a while. Next chapter will be up as soon as I can get it up. **

**Review?**

**Eris-R-Renee**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did…well. *Evil laugh*

**WITH THE BOYS:**

Dean glanced at the passenger seat. Sam was curled into a ball, his long legs pulled to his chest and his head resting on his knees. He had slept practically the whole way to Bobby's, only waking when they entered the town. That was ten minutes ago and they were going to pull into Bobby's in about five minutes. Dean was worried about Sam's silence.

"Sam?"

The teen, looking for all his 17 years incredibly young, turned his head so he was no longer gazing out the window but instead gazing at his elder brother. Dean ran a hand through his hair, alternating between navigating through the junk yard and looking at his brother.

"How long's this been going on, Sammy?"

Sam seemed to tense, not specifically at the question but at the endearment tacked onto the end. Dean almost flinched himself, knowing that after this it would be like learning Sam all over again. _Alright then, no calling Sam Sammy. _Dean pulled up in front of Bobby's humble abode, noting that Caleb's car was already here. The two brothers sat in the car, Dean waiting for an answer and Sam to tired and sore to do anything but breathe. _Even that hurts_, he thought sadly.

Dean realized he wasn't going to get an answer from his younger sibling and resisted the urge to shake Sam and demand an answer. He needed to know how long he'd been ignorant, how long Sam had suffered without Dean's knowledge. _Goddamnit, I'm supposed to protect him! _The elder Winchester turned off the car and climbed out. He walked around to Sam's side, pocketing his keys and opening the door. Sam flinched at the creak of the opening door, moving his body so it was no longer reliant on the door to hold it upright.

"Come on Sam, you can rest in our room."

Sam carefully uncurled his body, moving with deliberate slowness. Dean didn't push him; he could see in the tense posture and slight layer of sweat upon his younger brother's brow that he was in pain. When Sam's feet were firmly on the ground, Dean moved under Sam's arm. With exaggerated movements, trying not to startle his skittish brother, Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's waist and threw the teen's arm around his own shoulders. He had only mild success as Sam still flinched lightly when his fingers curled around the teen's hipbone.

"Alright, up we go."

Dean quickly lifted his brother out of the car. Sam staggered almost immediately, falling into Dean's side with a muffled moan. The elder brother shifted his grip and bumped the door to his baby closed with his hip. Then the two Winchester's started the slow shuffle to Bobby's porch. Sam was heavily perspiring now, jaw clenched tight as he struggled to walk. Dean tried to remember what was wrong with Sam but couldn't get passed the image of blood coating the kid's thighs and buttocks. Just as they reached the steps leading onto the landing, the door opened. Dean looked up, catching sight of Caleb. Their friend looked like he wanted to help, yet was rightfully hesitant.

"Caleb, our room ready?"

"Yeah. Bobby took care of it…you okay kid?"

The question was directed at Sam, who didn't bother looking up. He simply nodded and leaned himself against the railing as Dean dug in his pockets. He tossed Caleb the keys to the Impala.

"Can you get our duffels?"

"Sure Ace."

Caleb walked down the steps, giving Sam a comfortable berth. Dean appreciated it and gave his friend a small smile, which was returned. The hunter turned his attention back to his trembling brother, who had obviously overexerted himself.

"Come on Sam. Just up the stairs and then you can sleep, m'kay?"

"'Kay Dean."

"'Atta boy."

Dean slipped back under Sam's arm and quickly opened the door, holding it open with his foot. They moved into the house and up the stairs in time for Caleb to open the bedroom door for them. The older man placed the duffels at the end of each bed, respectively, and left the room quietly. Dean sat his younger brother on the bed, quickly pulling off his shoes, socks, and jacket, leaving the shirt. He hesitated at the jeans, looking up at Sam for any indication. The teen was already asleep; eyes clenched shut and mouth slightly open. Dean couldn't help but grin at the sight and quickly stripped Sam of his jeans.

"Oh Sam."

Dean gently brushed the hair back from his brother's face before tucking him in and leaving the room. He headed down the stairs, running a hand through his hair worriedly. Caleb and Bobby were in the kitchen and the grizzled old hunter embraced Dean in a tight, short hug. Caleb handed him a beer, which he gladly accepted.

"Where's John?"

Bobby and Caleb quirked a brow at each other before Bobby answered.

"He's in the basement."

"He say anything?"

Dean was flexing his fingers on the neck of the beer bottle, fingers white with tension. Bobby gave the glass a pointed look, knowing the way Dean's anger was increasing he could easily shatter the glass. Dean shot him an apologetic grimace and placed the bottle on the counter. Bobby sighed wearily and leaned against his counter.

"So far he's only asked if you were safe."

Dean rolled his shoulders, nose twisting slightly in disdain. Caleb moved to leave the room, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder as he passed.

"It'll all work out Ace."

Dean nodded tiredly and Caleb gave his friend's shoulder one last squeeze before heading up the stairs for some rest. Dean grabbed another beer, boosting himself up on the counter with an exhausted grunt. Bobby didn't have the heart to reprimand him.

"John'll be fine in the basement. It's been rearranged into a panic room."

Dean raised a brow.

"You built a panic room?"

"I had a weekend off."

The brunette laughed.

"Bobby, you are amazing."

There was a call for Dean from upstairs. The hunter spun on his heel and placed the beer on the counter as he left the room. Bobby followed him, stopping by his shoulder at the foot of the stairs. Sam was sitting near the top, leaning against the wall. Caleb was a few steps below him, hand on Sam's bicep to steady him. Dean sprinted up the steps, noticing the pale, sweating form of his brother. Dean placed the inside of his wrist against the teen's forehead, hissing at the warmth he found there.

"Damn, he has a fever."

Bobby muttered under his breath, pushing his ball cap further up his forehead before pulling it down again.

"Bring him into the living room. It'll be easier to take care of him down here."

Bobby disappeared into the kitchen. Caleb and Dean worked together to quickly yet carefully lift Sam off the stairs and carry him to the living room. They arranged him on the couch, Caleb remaining by his side as Dean began pacing the room, worrying his lip. Bobby came in a moment later, handing Caleb a cold washcloth and a bowl of water filled with ice to keep it cool.

Dean managed his pacing long enough to help Caleb get Sam's shirt off and pull a blanket up to the young man's waist. Caleb and Bobby were both staring at the teen's chest, which was a mess of black and blue bruises. They could all clearly count his ribs. What wasn't skin was muscle and even that was scarce. Dean began pacing anew. Bobby settled in an armchair, watching Dean pace.

"Dean, we need to take him to the hospital."

"He won't want to go."

Bobby growled at the man. _Winchester stubborn._

"He's sick! Would you rather have him mad at you or dead?"

Dean bit his lip, looking so ridiculously lost and sad that Bobby nearly regretted his harsh words. Nearly. Caleb watched from his position on the couch, where he was gently running the cloth over Sam's face, neck, and chest.

"I just want him to feel able to trust me. If we take him to the hospital, he might take it the wrong way."

Bobby shook his head sadly, understanding where the older brother was coming from. Dean was gazing at Sam as though he had to choose between kicking a puppy or gnawing off his own hand. In this analogy, Sam was the kicked puppy which would end with a dead puppy. Dean was losing a hand, which was no-where near equivalent to the pain he would feel if Sam didn't trust him. Hurt Sam or lose an arm? Bobby knew what Dean would choose.

"You idjit. You could never lose Sam's trust. The kid adores you."

Dean rubbed his brow, covering his eyes. When his hand disappeared, so did the doubts and emotional signs of upheaval Bobby knew Dean was experiencing.

"Alright. Caleb, help me get him in the Impala."

**AT THE HOSPITAL:**

When Sam woke, it was slow and almost comfortable. To him, it felt like the smooth transition of diving into water only it had the opposite effect. Instead of jumping in and feeling the cool water envelope his sore body and keep him hidden away, he was being gently lifted out. He couldn't tell if it was a bad thing or not. Once he was fully awake and was looking around, he desperately wished to be unconscious. Sam knew he was in a hospital, which was bad enough. The fact that Dean was passed out next to him in an uncomfortable looking chair only made it worse. Sam felt tears sting the back of his eyelids. Everything was so messed up; it was all falling apart. The brunette shifted slightly, causing his brother's green eyes to snap open.

"Sam?"

His voice was rough and scratchy from sleep and crying, though Sam didn't know about the last part. Dean sat forward, grasping one of Sam's hands in his own. He gave his younger brother a light smile.

"How ya doing?"

Sam shrugged. Dean's smile fell away. After a moment he turned to the table besides Sam's bed and picked up a glass of water. He positioned the bendy straw at Sam's lips and gestured for him to take a sip using only his eyebrows. Once, Sam might have admired the graceful arch of his brother's thin eyebrows. Now, he felt absolutely sick just thinking of it. He felt as though just thinking of his brother that way would taint him; he didn't want to taint Dean.

"Better?"

Sam nodded slowly, letting Dean hold Sam's hand in his own after he'd placed the water down again. Dean was worrying his bottom lip, watching Sam, who did nothing but stare out the nearby window as though in a daze.

"You've only been in here for 2 days. Doc said you can leave 24 hours after waking up."

Sam didn't say anything, didn't look away from the window. Dean glanced down at his lap as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep from crying. God, he just wanted his brother back.

"I was…worried. Terrified really. You were in surgery for over 3 hours."

Dean paused for a few seconds, hoping Sam would give him some response. When he didn't, the elder Winchester barreled on.

"You had severe internal bleeding due to…rips and tears. I…God, Sam!"

Dean choked, lowering his head so it rested on their clasped hands. He bit his lip and despite tasting the bitter tang of coppery blood on his tongue, he couldn't keep from crying. Sam looked over at the sound of his brother sniffling gently, his head bowed to hide the tears. Sam wasn't fooled; he could feel the cool tears on his hand and see the light tremble in Dean's tense shoulders. With hesitant movements, the brunette raised his free hand and gently ran it through Dean's hair.

"I'm…sorry Dean."

Dean took another minute to gather himself, enjoying the feeling of Sam's fingers running through his hair, fingernails gently scratching his scalp. The movement did wonders for his headache. Finally he raised his head, kissing their clasped hands as he raised his eyes to meet Sam's.

"It's not your fault Sammy."

Dean flinched at the slipup, though he realized immediately that Sam hadn't responded negatively to the nickname. In fact, the younger sibling had squeezed Dean's hand lightly.

"None of this is your fault. I swear."

Sam didn't turn his face from Dean, though the hunter caught the slight shifting of his baby blues. Sam didn't believe him, it seemed. Dean, worrying it was to soon to be pushing such boundaries, gently encased Sam's face with his hands. Sam seemed to tense. In response, the elder brother began to gently rub his right thumb over Sam's cheek. That movement, coupled with the warmth of Dean's palms, relaxed Sam.

"Sam. Look at me."

Sam lifted his eyes though his gaze was directed towards Dean's forehead.

"No Sam, look me in the eyes."

The 17-year-old hesitated before complying. Dean smiled softly in encouragement.

"Sam, nothing John did to you was your fault. You didn't deserve any of that. And I will tell you over and over again it wasn't your fault until you believe it because it's _true_. Okay?"

Sam felt the corner of his mouth twitch lightly.

"Okay Dean."

"Okay."

Dean grinned and released Sam's face, going back to holding his hand. Sam settled back into the pillows and fell asleep within minutes. Dean's smile dropped from his face and he scrubbed a palm over his features wearily. If only he knew what exactly John had done.

**END OF CHAPTER:**

How was it? I can't seem to make the big revelation come out (which is, you know, how long John's been abusing Sam and why) so I created this instead. At 2 in the morning…anyway! Hope it was okay.

Review?

Eris-R-Renee


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I write sins not tragedies and thus do not own the Supernatural cast…or the Impala…or any of the set designs or props and so on and so forth.

**AT BOBBY'S/24 HOURS AFTER SAM WAKES:**

Dean trudged down the stairs, towel-drying his hair with exhausted movements. Caleb raised a brow as the man literally collapsed on the couch, towel covering his face. Bobby came in, snatching the towel off Dean's face and throwing it onto a nearby chair.

"How is he?"

Dean sighed, rubbing his eye tiredly.

"Asleep."

Bobby nodded, leaning back in his armchair.

"I think you should call Jim."

Caleb raised his head.

"Jim Murphy? The pastor from Minnesota?"

Bobby grunted an affirmative. Dean rubbed his head, rotating his shoulders in the same smooth movement. Bobby could tell that Dean needed some incentive to call in their mutual friend. The grizzled hunter knew that Dean was trying to keep Sam from feeling overwhelmed and another person, especially another male John's age, wasn't the best idea. Yet Bobby knew there was no way to get John to talk and it was obvious Sam wouldn't tell Dean; the younger Winchester was trying to protect his brother. There was no doubt in the hunter's mind that Sam had kept quiet largely in part to keeping Dean safe.

"Think about it boy. Jim can talk to Sam…you know the kid has always gotten along with the Pastor."

"Are you saying I can't talk to Sam?"

Bobby could see Dean growing angry. Raising his hands in surrender, he shook his head.

"Don't go gettin' angry with me, idjit. Sam's obviously tryin' to protect you."

The elder Winchester deflated, swinging around on the couch so he was sitting up straight. After a few minutes of silence in which Caleb and Bobby could practically hear Dean's mind working, Dean stood.

"I'm going to talk to my dad."

Caleb blanched while Bobby raised a brow. Caleb stood, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Sure that's a good idea?"

"I have to talk to him. At least once before…before I decide to call Jim."

Caleb looked like he was going to protest as Dean shrugged off his hand and walked down the stairs to the basement. Bobby shook his head, leaning back in his chair. Caleb bit his lip but sighed, sitting back on the couch and turning on the TV. It wouldn't surprise him if John got a bloody nose out of the confrontation.

**WITH DEAN:**

The brunette didn't know how long he stood there, staring at the door to the panic room. Which was impressive looking; he'd have to remember to compliment Bobby on a job well done. Of course, the hunter never did anything half-assed. Dean ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of what to say when he entered that room. Part of him hoped this was the work of a demon or an angry spirit; some type of possession. He'd already lost his mom; he didn't want to lose his dad. Yet…was losing Sam worth keeping Dad? Dean knew that, even if this was a big misunderstanding that required an exorcism, Sam would never be able to stay with John again.

Dean just wanted his family together. He knew Sam and John never got along to begin with, constantly on each other's toes with glares and rude comments. This…occurrence (Dean didn't think he could stomach calling it what it was…_rape_) was the last straw on the proverbial camel's back. He knew that, at the least, he would need to ask John how long this had been going on. Was it possible the reason the two never got along was because John was _abusing_ Sam? No, he couldn't believe that. He wouldn't. That would mean this had been going on for years, that Dean hadn't noticed his brother's suffering.

It also increased the chances of this not being a supernatural occurrence, of it just being John…just being Dean's dad, beating his beloved younger brother. The same father who had handed Sam to Dean when the kid was first born and told him he was a big brother now and he needed to protect Sammy. That being a big brother was like being a superhero. It would be the same father that handed Sam to Dean the night of the fire and told him to run. The same father that taught him to drive (something Dean had taught Sam), gave him his first beer (a beer Dean had secretly shared with Sam), and the man he looked up to.

Dean finally managed to gather enough courage to unlock the door. He didn't open it right away, instead listening to the sound of his father sitting up on the bed. With a deep breath he pushed the door open, swiftly shutting it behind him. He leaned against the cool metal, appreciating the fact it lowered the fire in his blood slightly with just its cool touch. Slowly he looked up, meeting his father's gaze. The man sat on the edge of the cot, watching Dean with hooded eyes.

"Dad…"

His father's wary, guarded expression quickly morphed into a slight grin. He stood and moved to give Dean a hug, though at Dean's slight flinch he settled for a fond slap on the shoulder. John took a seat on the bed and Dean grabbed a folding chair from the corner.

"Dean, how are you?"

"Fine…look, I need to ask you some questions."

"Sure son, go ahead."

Dean swallowed convulsively, leaning forward in his seat.

"Why…why did you do that? To Sam…why'd you-"

The hunter cut himself off, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated groan. It was so hard to ask this, to speak of the occurrences out loud; it made them real. John clasped his hands, seemingly understanding what Dean was asking.

"He deserved it, Dean."

"W-what?"

"Can't you see it? Sam needed to be disciplined. It wasn't right."

Dean resisted the urge to stand and punch his father until the man was nothing more than a bloody pulp.

"There is nothing Sam could do that would deserve you _abusing _him, _beating_ him! Nothing!"

John shook his head sadly, as though he were disappointed in Dean's belief.

"Sam took Mary away from us, Dean. He killed your mother. He deserved it."

"What happened to Mom was _not _Sam's fault!"

John stood, fists clenching at his sides.

"It happened in his nursery! Right over his GODDAMN CRIB!"

Dean stood as well, taking a threatening step toward his father.

"Nothing, _nothing_ is a good reason for raping my little brother. You fucking asshole."

The younger Winchester shoved his father, revealing in the feeling of release. It felt good to channel his anger and take it out on John. The grizzled old hunter allowed the push, stumbling back so his thighs hit the edge of the cot.

"Not even his sick, twisted fantasies? You don't know what- _who_- he was thinking about doing!"

Dean stepped back, crossing his arms. He quirked a brow.

"Then enlighten me."

John's brow furrowed and he bit his lip, obviously arguing with himself. Finally he shrugged, taking a seat on the cot. Dean followed his example, sitting on the edge of his chair so he could lunge at a moment's notice.

"He was thinking of you, Dean. I caught him saying your name, the dirty whore, as he cam-"

John was cut off by Dean's fist connecting with his nose. The man gave a startled yelp, holding a hand to his bleeding appendage while Dean stormed out of the room. The hunter slammed the door to the room shut and locked it, collapsing on the ground outside it. The blood in his veins was boiling, aching to make him go back into the panic room and beat the ever-loving shit out of his so-called father. Dean shuddered as the adrenaline coursed through his veins, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

He was such a goddamn idiot! Sam thought about him while he beat off. The thought made his blood sing, hot and heavy. Dean groaned, running a hand over his face. He didn't even get a chance to ask how long the issue had been going on. It didn't matter though; he was going to ask Sam. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, no matter how long it took him.

**WITH SAM/THE NEXT DAY:**

Sam didn't know exactly what had changed. He just knew something had. When he was brought home from the hospital (and yes, he thinks of Bobby's as home; it is to him) everyone seemed fine. Well, fine is a relevant term seeing as they were walking on eggshells around him. Yet he knew something had happened. When he went to sleep (plagued by nightmares) everything was fine. When he woke (drenched in a cold sweat and shaking) Dean was acting odd. Caleb and Bobby kept giving Dean these looks, like they were trying to tell him it was okay and there was nothing wrong.

At first he thought it was the fact that Sam had to go to the hospital, he got so sick. Then a few days passed and he was up and moving; still, Dean was silent, calculating. He watched Sam a lot now-a-days and though Sam didn't complain or even mention it (how could he? He was just glad Dean noticed him and didn't hate his guts) he felt slightly miffled by the constant attention. Yet Sam was too grateful to all three of the men to mention their infuriating watches, glances, and seemingly-sly looks.

Besides all that, he had his own problems to deal with. Sam had tried to be good, less self-absorbed and had even attempted to help Bobby around the house. All he got for his trouble was a soft smack on the head and an order to go rest on the couch. It wasn't the constant rest that was bothering Sam (no, he was enjoying the break) it was the nightmares. He didn't often have nightmares, at least not about his father and what he had done to him. No, his nightmares were more often night _terrors _and they were generally about strangers getting killed by the things his family hunted.

He wished that the night terrors were what plagued him. Instead it was his father, hands gripping his waist and breath hot on his neck. Sometimes it was Dean, walking in a few moments later than he had and hearing Sam cry his name as he was forced to cum and being completely disgusted. On one memorable occasion, Sam had dreamt that Dean had watched, his eyes hooded and dangerous. Once his father was done with him, Dean had beaten him to death, yelling his disgust and hatred. Sam detested that dream; he had spent over an hour emptying his already empty stomach into the toilet.

There was no end in sight for Sam; the nightmares were becoming worse. Sometimes he would catch himself seeing them during the day. Just yesterday he and Dean were watching a movie and Tom Cruise and his current-pick-of-the-week bled into John and Sam. He'd only jerked into awareness by Dean patting his knee as he stood to grab more popcorn. Sam knew he should probably tell someone about the dreams but he didn't want to bother anyone. Caleb was getting antsy, eager to go out. Bobby had already had to pick him up from the local bar a few times. Sam hated that the hunter felt obliged to stay with them.

Though, Caleb was most likely staying for Dean. He and Dean were close; they were great friends who often went on hunts together when Dean had first gotten to hunting solo. Sam felt the two deserved to go on a hunt. Though Dean didn't show it, Sam knew he was getting annoyed with being cooped up. Dean was a hunter; he needed to move and keep moving, constantly searching the open roads for creatures to kill and damsels to save.

To keep himself from thinking of Dean and damsels, Sam went searching for his elder brother. He found him in the kitchen, twirling a beer on the kitchen table and staring intently at his fingers. Sam hesitated, not sure if he should disturb his brother. He had just moved to leave the room when Dean looked up, tight smile stretching across his lips when he saw Sam.

"Hey Sam."

"Hi…"

Sam sat across from Dean, pulling his feet onto the chair so his legs were pressed to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his knees, keeping his legs in place. Lowering his head, so not to look directly at Dean, Sam began to pick at the frayed end of his hoodie sleeve. Dean sat back, trying to appear more open, more relaxed. Sam was really skittish around everyone nowadays and Dean was lucky the Sam could sit next to him without fidgeting.

"What's up Sam?"

"I…I think you a-and Caleb should…should-um…"

Dean smiled softly and hm-ed quietly, hoping to encourage Sam to continue. It worked but only just, as evident by the rush in Sam's next words.

"I think you should goonahunt. With Caleb."

Dean didn't know how to respond to that. Part of his wanted to ask Sam if he could repeat that because he wanted to believe he hadn't heard him right. Yet he knew if he did, Sam would probably back off and apologize. Dean wanted Sam to understand that even if he didn't like what he was saying, he would still listen.

"Why? I'm not asking because I'm saying yes or no, I'm asking 'cause I'm curious."

Sam licked his lips, tentatively looking at Dean. The older Winchester offered him a gentle, encouraging smile.

"I, ah, I know you're getting tired of being cooped up and…Caleb is crawling up the walls…I j-just thought it'd be a good i-idea?"

By the end of his explanation, Sam had managed to pull his hoodie over his mouth and nose, effectively smothering the 'sorry' he tacked onto the end. Dean heard it anyway.

"You don't haveta' be sorry, Sam."

Dean quieted for a moment, trying to think past his swirling thoughts.

"It's a real nice thought, Sam, and I appreciate it."

Sam whimpered slightly, a sound Dean was beginning to associate with Sam's anger. Not anger at other people, but anger at himself. Ignoring all the warning bells going off in his head, the elder brother reached over and wrapped Sam in a hug, pulling him onto his lap. Sam didn't resist, simply tucked his nose into Dean's neck.

"Y-you think it's a stu-upid idea."

"Nah, Sammy, 'course I don't. I just don't want to leave you alone, that's all."

Sam pulled away slightly, his jaw clenched in a now rare show of defiance.

"You don't have to b-babysit me, Dean."

Dean sighed softly, moving one hand further up Sam's back so he could card his fingers through the shaggy brown hair that was now trimmed to his shoulders.

"Sam, I'm not trying to. I'm just…I'm just worried about you."

The brothers fell into silence, though Sam didn't pull away and Dean continued to move his fingers soothingly through his little brother's hair. The silence continued for quite a while, floating in the air comfortably, though it was tinged in contemplation. Just as the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, Dean pulled away from Sam slightly so he could see his face.

"Tell you what, kiddo. Me and Caleb will work on finding a hunt and we'll leave when Pastor Jim arrives. That's about three days away. That way, if you change your mind, I can stay. Sound fair?"

Sam nodded slowly, twisting his fingers in Dean's shirt.

"Pastor Jim's coming?"

"Yeah. Said when he gets here, he'll make some of that soufflé you love."

Sam offered a tentative smile. He knew what Dean was playing at; he wanted Sam to eat something and keep it down. Well, the least he could do was eat some. If only for Dean's sake.

It was always for Dean.

**END OF CHAPTER:**

You may be wondering, why did I bring up the soufflé? Well, it's because of Soufflé Girl, the Impossible Girl, Clara Oswin Oswald. Basically, I couldn't resist bringing Dr. Who into it. xD Besides, the Pastor kinda seems like someone who would kick ass at cooking pastries. Imagine his croissants. I have a feeling he'd drizzle them with chocolate. Yum~

Also, sorry if the ending doesn't make much sense. I couldn't figure out how to end the chapter and I thought, hm, why not make sure everyone understands that Sam does everything to make his brother happy? And don't worry, we'll get around to the actual Wincest by the end of the story…oh, and maybe I'll even do an epilogue for ya'll.

Review please?

Eris-R-Renee


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural…in anyway. However, I do like to take the Impala out for a spin every once in awhile, so this story is a bit mean to our favorite Winchester brothers.

Speaking of Impala, did you hear Jensen Ackles is trying to buy one? Seriously…and then imagine him picking up Jared and Misha, heading to the shooting spot…and you see them drive by. Ooo, eyegasm! xD

**THREE DAYS LATER: **

The next three days were somewhat tense for Dean. Caleb had already located a hunt but they had agreed to wait until Jim arrived to tell Sam. Dean was positive his younger brother would try to get them to leave early and Dean didn't want to; not only for Sam's sake but also for his. He wasn't ready to leave Sam yet, not with his sick, twisted father within five minutes of Sam's room. Besides Dean's anxiety's over leaving (_abandoning,_ his mind would whisper to him) his brother, things were pretty normal.

Well, except for Sam's ever changing moods. One moment he would be insisting Dean leave him alone, he could read a book without being supervised _thankyouverymuch_, and the next he was sitting as close to Dean as he dared. It seemed like the teen wanted to prepare himself for Dean's upcoming absence (which the elder brother was still saying wasn't a sure thing, Sam only had to say he'd changed his mind) but at the same time, he wanted to get as much of Dean as possible, as though to tide him over.

At the moment, everyone was sitting at the dining table eating Bobby's chocolate chip pancakes. Well, everyone but Sam, who was carefully carving protection symbols into the soft bread with his butter knife, strictly out of boredom. Dean was ready to beg Sam to eat but was distracted (only for the moment, mind you) by a knock at the door. Bobby gestured with his head and Dean raised himself from his seat with an exaggerated groan.

When he got to the door, he paused briefly to make sure his pistol was within reach before opening it. In the doorway stood none other than Pastor Jim Murphy, holding a canvas duffel bag in one hand and a wrapped dish in the other. Jim smiled and stepped forward, dropping his bag to give Dean a one-armed hug.

"Dean. It's good to see you."

"You too, Pastor Jim. Is that…?"

Jim smiled and handed over the wrapped dish.

"Cherry pie. I figured you and Caleb could enjoy it on the road."

"Sure you shouldn't be a chef?"

The Pastor smiled at the praise and leaned down to pick up his bag. Caleb came around the corner and offered a giant smile coupled with an equally humongous hug.

"Hey PJ!"

Jim chuckled, returning the hug.

"Caleb. What have I said about that nickname?"

Dean grinned, following the playful banter that had been going on since he had first been introduced to Caleb and Jim. Caleb shrugged and took the Pastor's bag.

"I'll take this to your room."

"Thank you."

Caleb gave a lazy salute as he bounded up the stairs. Jim turned to Dean, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Where is Sam?"

"In the kitchen with Bobby."

Dean let Jim head to the kitchen, taking a moment to play with the foil on the pie. He was glad Jim was here but at the same time he was desperate for the man to disappear. Sam would expect him and Caleb to go on a hunt, something Dean wasn't sure he was ready to do but sure wanted to. He missed hunting but he would give it all up for Sam. Taking a low, steadying breath, he walked into the kitchen. Sliding the pie onto the counter, he spun to lean against it.

Bobby had already vacated the room, leaving behind dishes and the kneeling form of Pastor Jim. Sam's head was bowed to his chest, his hands curled under his thighs, caught between them and the chair. Jim's hand was resting lightly on Sam's knee and his head was bowed to his chest. The Pastor finished what he was saying and squeezed the teen's knee once before standing. As he passed Dean, the same hand that had been on Sam's knee came to rest briefly on the hunter's shoulder. Then the Pastor left the room.

Dean licked his lips nervously, pushing off the counter and using the momentum to carry him the three steps across the kitchen to Sam's side. Dean carefully fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to Sam's thigh, feeling the heat from his body through his denim jeans. After a moment of silence, Sam's hand wiggled from under his thigh, brushed Dean's cheek, and came to rest in his elder brother's hair. Dean let out a soft sigh and that's how they remained.

**LATER THAT DAY:**

The two brothers' didn't move for a long time, not even when Dean's legs fell completely asleep. Sam was the one who finally dragged them back to reality, mentioning that Caleb was probably getting impatient. After that, neither could remember what took them to the point of standing on the porch of Bobby's house, Caleb's truck packed and ready to go. Caleb was conversing quietly with Bobby and Jim next to the trunk, all three avoiding watching the brothers. Dean waited for Sam to speak, hands loose at his sides.

"Dean?"

"Hm?"

A moment of silence during which Sam slipped his hand into his brother's.

"Promise you'll stay safe."

Dean turned to Sam, gentle smile tugging at his lips.

"Of course, Sam."

The younger brother offered his own smile, moving forward to grasp Dean's waist in a tight hug which the elder brother returned readily. The next moment had him dropping a gentle kiss to Sam's brown locks and wishing it could be more. Dean lowered his arms and stepped off the porch. Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the railing, watching as Dean said goodbye to everyone else before he and Caleb climbed into the truck and drove away. Before he disappeared around a pile of rubbish, Dean offered a small wave in the review mirror and silently wondered if he was doing the right thing.

**2 DAYS LATER (8 DAYS AFTER THE RAPE)WITH DEAN AND CALEB: **

Dean and Caleb had just arrived at one of the local watering holes in Watertown, South Dakota. Well, a little town about thirty minutes out of Watertown. Dean had refused to go anywhere outside of South Dakota and the fact that Watertown was only about two hours from Sioux Falls was just a plus. He could be by Sam's side in a little under those two hours if it was called for.

"Dean!"

The hunter turned to look at his friend, catching the beer Caleb slide toward him on the bar counter. The man grinned, raising his glass and following a game of pool going on in the corner. The hunt was going well, relatively speaking. They knew it was a werewolf, they just didn't know who it was. As such, they were scooping out possible targets. Caleb bumped Dean's shoulder with his own.

"I'm going to jump in that pool game. Wanna join?"

"Nah, you go ahead man."

Caleb shrugged good naturedly.

"Suit yourself, Ace. Maybe you could try weaseling some information outta that one over there."

With a sly wink, the man walked off. Dean could see him gesture animatedly to the three guys playing pool and then proceeding to make himself at home. With a slight chuckle, Dean turned to look at "that one over there" as his friend had so eloquently put it. The person in question was a petite brunette with side-swept bangs and a shy smile. Dean smirked to himself and stood to walk to the woman's table. A brief thought of _Sammy _almost caused him to stumble but he shouldered on, forcing himself to appear charismatic. Just as he within reach of the table, his phone went off. With a slight smile as an apology to the now frowning brunette, Dean shoved his way out of the bar. He flipped the phone open, not bothering to check the caller id.

"Hello?"

"Dean. You need to come back."

"What? Pastor Jim?"

Dean lowered the bottle he was about to take a drink from, already tapping on the window of the bar next to the pool table, effectively catching Caleb's attention. The man gave a nod and began walking toward the door.

"It's Sam. An infection set in and he got a fever. He's disappeared."

Dean tossed the bottle in the trash, gesturing with his head to get in the car. Caleb barley had the door closed before Dean was taking off, driving toward the hotel.

"When?"

"About an hour ago. I wouldn't have called but he doesn't recognize us and we're worried we won't be able to find him if he's hiding."

"Alright. I've got Caleb. We'll stop by the hotel, pack up, and be ther-"

"Dean, take a deep breath."

Fighting the urge to yell at his long-time friend, Dean did as he was told and took a deep breath, letting it out in a giant whoosh that had Caleb snickering at his blatant disregard for Jim's "let it out slow."

"I've called Joshua, he's about an nine hours away. Caleb can finish up the investigation and when Joshua gets there, they can take care of the werewolf. Alright?"

"Fine. I'll be there in two hours."

"Drive sa-"

Dean snapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the seat beside him. Caleb had to grab it as Dean turned sharply into the hotel parking lot. The Winchester took a deep breath and then hit the steering wheel three times with the heels of his hands. Caleb remained silent, simply placing the phone back on the seat.

"You needa calm down. You can't drive like this."

"The hell I can't!"

Caleb placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it so tight it bordered on painful.

"Go. I'll bring your stuff to Bobby's when Josh and I finish with the hunt."

Dean nodded. Caleb climbed out of his truck, closing the door behind him with a gentle push. With a deep breath, Dean pulled out of the parking lot and turned toward the highway with only one goal in mind.

_Sammy. _

**AT BOBBY'S/1 HOUR AND 42 MINUTES LATER: **

Dean had barley parked the car before he was climbing out. Bobby met him on the porch, holding a beer which he promptly pushed into Dean's hands. The Winchester raised a brow, clearly not following the sentiment. Bobby gestured to the lot and Dean turned, spotting the Impala.

"What's Baby got to do with it?"

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Sam's curled up in the backseat. We couldn't get 'im out. He only wanted you."

Dean raised a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose, gently kneading the bridge. He placed the beer on the porch rail as he walked down the steps, leaving Bobby to grumble and drink the forgotten alcohol. The elder brother made his way to his Baby, pausing before sliding into the driver's seat. The soft squeak of shifting leather let him know Sam was awake, if not coherent.

"Sammy?"

With a small wince, Dean wished he could take back what just came out of his mouth. Sam was still nervous about Dean using his old nickname, though he had been taking it better. Now, when Sam was obviously still wracked by the fever and scared, was a bad time to see if Sam would take the endearment well. A hand suddenly latched onto his elbow, pulling at the leather jacket. Dean followed the movement, easily sliding over the front bench into the backseat. Sam was curled in a ball, wrapped in nothing but a thin pair of pajama pants and an old shirt of Dean's.

"Ah, Sammy."

Sam snuffed lightly as he snuggled into his brother, his nose wiggling its way into the crook of Dean's neck, reminding the elder Winchester of a puppy.* Dean let him settle and once he had, gently settled an arm around his shoulders. His free hand began to comb through the tangles of his brother's hair, carefully pulling and tugging to get the hair smooth. They sat like this for awhile, quiet and at ease. Dean's fingers moved to rub smooth circles into Sam's tense neck. Eventually the youngest stopped his light shaking and he let out a slow huff, heating the skin on Dean's neck briefly.

"Dean?"

"Hm?"

Sam snuggled closer, tucking his hands between Dean's jacket and shirt. Abs flexed against his hands, the muscles automatically recoiling from the cold touch. Dean settled quickly, pulling Sam closer with the arm around his shoulders.

"I…I'm sorry. F-for bringing you back so…early."

"It's alright Sam."

"No, it's not. I…I thought Da…John was go-onna get out."

Dean twisted lightly to look at his brother.

"Having nightmares again?"

The teen nodded sourly, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to nibble at anxiously. Dean gently pulled it out, shaking his head to discourage Sam from doing again. Not that it would do much, the kid had been chewing on his lip since he was three.

"Sam, don't worry. No way is he gettin' out, I promise."

Dean wrapped both his arms around Sam, pulling him onto his lap to hug him better. Sam's hands curled to hold the bottom of Dean's shirt, his head dipping under his brother's chin. Dean pressed a chaste kiss to the brunette locks.

"And Sam?"

"Hm?"

"I didn't wanna leave to begin with."

**END OF CHAPTER:**

*This sentence is a reference to one of the greatest Supernatural trilogy's out there, in my humble opinion. Check out _skag trendy_ and their (for the sake of being gender neutral) Hunter Of The Shadows trilogy. Seriously, a work of art!

Sorry if the scene breaks confuse you; they're kinda my timeline. I also thought you guys would enjoy knowing how long John's been locked up. xD Also, I've never even been to South Dakota, so if there is or isn't a town about 30 minutes out of Watertown, then I do apologize. Also, anything said in this story about the inhabitants of said town (be it imaginary or not) is solely out of Dean's mouth and not of my own opinion. Just in case. ^^

Pleaseee review?

Eris-R-Renee


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Never will…well, maybe. One day.

Oh, the Wincest begins to emerge clearly in this story. So warning for same-sex relationships and incest. Good? Good.

**THREE DAYS LATER (11 DAYS AFTER RAPE): **

Dean didn't know exactly when it had happened but one day he realized he'd been pulled firmly into Sam's personal bubble. In situations that Sam would usually twist his jacket in his fingers, he instead reached for Dean's hand and gently traced each line on his palm over and over. At night, Sam would usually rest in one bed and Dean in the other. Once two nights passed with Sam crawling into bed with Dean, the elder Winchester moved the side table and pushed the bed together.

Little things that Dean had begun to suspect were going to be the new normal had changed. When Sam brushed his teeth, Dean could reach around him to grab the toothpaste. He could toss Sam a shirt or brush his shoulder as he walked past. There were some things that bothered Dean, like the fact Sam wouldn't eat unless Dean ate and even then, only if it was off his elder brother's plate. Jim didn't seem to be worried. The pastor assured both Dean and Bobby it was perfectly normal; Sam was assuring himself that there was something stable, something safe. Dean would never deny his brother comfort.

Caleb and Joshua had swung by to pick up Caleb's truck and drop off Dean's duffle. They had wanted to stay, as both looked at Sam as their little brother and were worried. It was only Sam's shyness and Jim's subsequent firm decisions that the two left. It was obvious that Sam just wasn't comfortable enough to be so totally surrounded. Not to mention Bobby was bitching that he felt like a hotel manager.

The days were passing in a slow rush. That is, they spent their time lounging around but there was still that urgency, that voice that was screaming about John and deviants and _just down the stairs._ Sam liked to have time to himself, which wasn't unusual but still worrying if only for the fact Dean couldn't watch him and make sure he was okay. It was one of these times that found Dean, Bobby, and Jim gathered in the kitchen.

"We can't just keep 'im down there."

"The hell we can't!"

Bobby shot Dean a frown. Jim sighed, rubbing his hands together as he thought.

"It's not safe to let John out. We don't know what's going on. At least, not the whole story. Still, what we do know doesn't vouch positively for John's state of mind."

Jim sent Dean a small, sad smile. After his impromptu trip to see John before calling Jim, Dean had wrestled with telling everyone what had occurred in the room between him and his father. In the end he had called Jim back a night later, after watching Sam twist and turn fitfully in his sheets. The Pastor had merely listened, told Dean to tread carefully, and then hung up with a soft declaration of _"You boys are like my own. I'd never push you away."_ After that, Dean had told Bobby, who had taken it with a bit less finesse than the good Pastor.

"What are we gonna do once we know?"

Bobby looked at the young hunter leaning against his counter, beer clasped tight in his hand. The man looked tired in a soul-bearing way, slouching against the counter as though it were the only thing keeping him up.

"I don't know Dean. Can't say 'till we know everything."

Dean sighed, running a hand up the side of his face and through his hair. The hand came to settle on his neck, thumb running tight circles in the tense muscles found there. Bobby let out a huff, moving to stand.

"Go be with Sam. Jim and I'll make dinner."

Dean nodded slowly, leaving his beer on the counter as he pushed off it. He moved slowly up the stairs, stopping outside of their bedroom. With another soft sigh, he pushed the door open.

"Sam, is it okay if I com-"

Dean cut himself off, small smile stretching across his lips. Sam lay curled in the middle of their two beds, clutching Dean's pillow to his chest. It was obvious the teen had tried to toe of his shoes before he fell asleep. One was laying a few inches from his left foot and the other was teetering precariously on the edge of the bed. Dean picked them both up and placed them next to the bed, sitting on the edge to watch Sam. It was often the most reassuring thing Dean could find these days; just watching Sam's chest rise and fall with breath, his eyelashes flutter as he dreamt.

With a slight roll of his shoulders, Dean moved to lay on his side, propped up by an elbow. Sam shuffled closer subconsciously, his head coming to rest near Dean's elbow on the mattress. The elder smiled gently while running long, calloused fingers through the brown hair spilling over Sam's shoulder. Hadn't he just had it cut? It couldn't already have grown past his shoulders again. Dean leaned closer, holding the hair between his fingers carefully. He stopped moving forward when Sam rolled slightly onto his back, causing the hair that had been between Dean's fingers to slide out between them with the motion of Sam's head turning.

Dean was distracted again by Sam's fluttering eyelashes, dark against his pale cheeks. Obviously he hadn't been getting enough sun. Sam's skin was usually pleasantly tanned, though never as dark as Dean's. Dark green eyes blinked slowly as they followed a finger trailing down Sam's cheek. Dean let the finger brush against the strong jaw line, over the closed eyelids, rest briefly in the feathery touch of eyelashes and then trail down a gently sloped nose that had been broken more than once.

A gentle gush of breath broke through Dean's concentrate and then recaptured it as the breath warmed his finger. Said finger was now tracing the soft outline of a cupid's bow and a plump bottom lip. Dean couldn't say he tried to stop himself from continuing. Truth was he wanted what happened next. With only a slight glance to check Sam's eyes were still closed, the eldest Winchester leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sam's. It was a chaste kiss, a little on the long side, a lot on the tender.

Dean pulled away after a handful of seconds with a small, sad smile on his face. With a long, tired groan, Dean sat up on the bed and moved to stand. A gentle hand grasped the bottom of his shirt. Dean stilled, panic settling like a lead weight in his chest.

"Dean?"

Swallowing, the man turned to face his brother, head tilted to the right.

"Yeah?"

Sam's hazel eyes were wide open, the blue in them outweighing the green as the setting sun struck them pleasantly through the open window.

"Did you just…did you k-kiss me?"

It briefly crossed Dean's mind to play it off, maybe tease Sam for his overactive imagination. The thought fled quickly. Sam didn't deserve that. Dean didn't want that. He wanted to tell Sam and know whether or not Sam felt the same. He needed to know. So Dean nodded slowly. Sam's eyes got wider and his mouth opened briefly before closing again. Dean tried to wait it out but found he couldn't.

"I'm so, so sorry Sam. I didn't mean-"

"Mean to what? Kiss me? That's not something you a-accidently do, Dean!"

The elder brother winced slightly, head bowing towards his chest.

"I didn't mean to do that while you were still…recovering. I just…Jesus Christ!"

Dean stood, fisting his short hair in his frustration. He couldn't figure out what to say; everything was coming out wrong. Sam sat up in bed, watching him quietly. Dean turned to the window, trying to calm his thoughts enough to reassure Sam. When he turned around, the teen was slipping on his second shoe, fumbling with the laces. Dean sighed, moving to kneel in front of him and tie the shoe for him. Sam let him, remaining where he was once Dean had finished. The elder Winchester hesitated before placing a hand on Sam's knee.

"Look Sam…I wanted to wait. Until you were feeling more like yourself. I…I didn't want you to think I was forcing you to do something or, or…"

Dean trailed off, unable to gather his wits despite his best efforts. Sam hadn't shifted, seemed like he was barely breathing.

"I don't understand Dean."

It came out as a whispery sigh. Dean looked up, heart catching at the confused look on his brother's face. He shifted were he kneeled, watching Sam.

"What don't you understand, Sam?"

"What…what do you want? W-why did you…? If it wasn't for s-se…"

Sam bit his lip, unable to continue. Dean was kicking himself inside, cursing himself for giving in. Sam wasn't ready for this, didn't understand what Dean was trying to say.

"Sam. Sam, look at me."

Hazel eyes looked up, blue giving way to green and green giving way to blue over and over within them.

"You know I love you right?"

A small nod. Dean licked his suddenly chapped lips.

"Well…I love you more than I should. More than a…a brother should love a brother."

Sam didn't say anything, eyes clouded as he watched Dean. The elder brother rubbed his hand on his jeans nervously.

"I went to see John before I called Pastor Jim. He told me why he…did what he did."

Sam stiffened beneath Dean's hand. With a quiet coo he wasn't even aware of letting out, Dean calmed his brother.

"Sam…I've always loved you and one day I realized it had become…more. And it's stayed that way. I'll always love you and I'll never leave you but I needa know if what John said is true. And if it is…do you love me to or was it just…just something that slipped."

Dean had never felt so…nervous, happy, relieved, worried, scared…in love. Sam was silent and Dean couldn't bring himself to look at his brother, preparing himself for the worst and distantly hoping for the best.

"D-dean? You're not…you're not playing with me r-right?"

The dirty blond looked up to see Sam's eyes filled with tears and his nose a light red. It was obvious he was struggling to keep himself together. Dean surged up, catching Sam in a hug that threatened to topple them either to the floor or the bed.

"Of course not Sammy. God, I would never!"

The hug was comforting, though precarious. Dean carefully stood, never releasing Sam, and sat on the bed, letting the teen settle. Sam tucked himself into Dean's side, arms wound tight around his waist and head buried in his stomach. Dean moved his arms to avoid pins and needles, resting them around Sam's shoulders. His thumbs rubbed circles into Sam's back, a simple gesture that seemed to ease Sam's tears. After Sam's tears had subsided, they sat in silence for awhile longer. Then the brunette shifted, looking up at his brother with eyes shining from the remaining tears.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"I love you too."

And that was that.

**END OF CHAPTER:**

This started as a simple 7-shot…which somehow ended up evolving into this cluster fuck. Anyway, next chapter up soon. Also, earlier in the story I stated Sam's eyes are hazel. Traditionally, hazel is green and brown. For Sam, hazel is blue and green. And ahhh, sorry for the ending. Kinda sucked.

Review?

Eris-R-Renee


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Thus, the following is only a dream…

Warnings: Blah blah, incest, blah blah, wincest, blah blah, homosexuality, blah blah, relationships! And Dean's mouth…both how it looks and what comes out of it.

**TWO DAYS LATER (13 DAYS AFTER RAPE):**

It had been two days since their discussion in the ruins of Bobby's junkyard and things were better for Sam. Dean gave him the same amount of love and compassion as before but now, in private, Sam was allowed to ask for gentle kisses and close cuddles. It was giving Sam strength, something he'd always felt he was lacking.

Dean's attitude toward his brother hadn't changed; he was still caring, gentle, and a constant presence. However, Sam could see the difference in the small smiles, the casual brushing of hands. Sam could feel it. It was a great feeling. It was because of Dean and his constant affection that Sam was where he was; standing in front of the door to Bobby's panic room. Alone.

Dean was out grabbing groceries for dinner. Sam had wanted to go with him, so much it practically ached, yet he knew it would likely be the only time he could come see John without Dean knowing within five minutes. With a deep breath to steady him, Sam unlocked the door to the panic room. He didn't open it right away, instead listening to his father move around inside the room.

Placing his hand flat against the door, Sam pushed the door open. He stepped in without looking at his father, leaving the door open behind him. John raised a brow at his appearance, racking his eyes from Sam's feet to his face.

"Sam. What are you doin' here, boy? Thought Dean'd get rid of you by now."

Sam remained silent, watching his father- no, John- pace the area in front of the bed. His ankle was attached to the bed post, something that greatly reassured Sam. John titled his head, continuing in his low drawl.

"Well, boy, you gonna speak?"

"I want to know why."

Sam was eternally grateful he hadn't stuttered. John raised a brow.

"I'd think you'd know by now. How long 'ave I been telling you?"

"Twelve years."

John startled, apparently shocked Sam would know immediately. Then he grinned, not a pleasant one but a mocking one.

"Then you should know why."

"Because I killed mom…"

John nodded.

"Because I wasn't as good as Dean…"

Another nod.

"Because I wasn't obedient enough, I got Dean hurt, I couldn't focus, my shooting was off, I didn't sharpen the knives, I stole money, I lied, I was fat and uncoordinated…"

John smiled, sitting on the edge of his bed comfortably. Sam wasn't watching him anymore, instead focusing on the ground where John's shoes were.

"It was because I loved Dean more than I should have…"

Sam knew he should stop, he could feel John's sudden tension from across the room. Said tension was steadily growing into anger, something the teen knew was dangerous.

"I love him more than I love myself, more than I love mom."

"You shut your mouth, boy or so help me I'll come over there and shut it for you!"

Sam continued, lifting his eyes slightly to watch the frown pull at John's lips and the anger create lines around his eyes.

"Dean means more to me than anything; hunting or reading or even being alive. And you hate that. Why do you hate that?"

John stood quickly, the bed creaking loudly in protest. He took four great strides forward, within a foot of Sam. His ankle jerked as the chain stretched taunt between his leg and the bed frame. Still, John managed to reach out with a hand and grab a fistful of Sam's shirt, dragging him forward.

"You're sick, Sam. You are worse than the monsters we hunt. Your brother is pure, he's good! And you wanna fuck it up, fuck him!"

John latched onto his shoulders with his strong hands, shaking him roughly. Sam winced, feeling his neck crack sharply at the whiplash movement. Sam grasped his father's forearms, not to escape but simply to gain some stability.

"You hate it because you loved mom like that and you miss her more than you love us. You'd have traded Dean and me for her any day of the week."

A fist nailed him in the nose, causing warm liquid to quickly create a river flowing over his lip, down his chin, and onto his shirt. John pulled him closer, the man's eyes burning holes in Sam's.

"I love Dean just as much as I love your mother. He's her greatest gift! But you…your nothin' but the demon that took her away from me!"

John's fist reared back to hit him again but was halted by a hand wrapping around his wrist. Bobby stood at John's shoulder, jaw clenched tight.

"John, put the boy _down_."

The hand tightened at the end of the sentence. John reluctantly released Sam's shoulder, lowering his fist and glaring daggers at Sam. Gentle hands grasped the teen's shoulders and led him quickly from the room. Bobby closed the door to the panic room as Jim lead Sam up the stairs and into the living room to rest on the couch.

"Breathe, child. You're alright."

Bobby walked into the room, pushing a towel filled with ice onto Sam's nose gingerly.

"I called Dean. He's headed this way now."

Sam merely nodded, holding the icepack to his nose and staring intently at the floor. Jim rubbed smooth circles onto his bicep.

"Samuel, are you ready to tell us what's been going on?"

A sudden shiver passed through his body before he blinked slowly, like he was coming out of a dream.

"I need Dean."

"He'll be here soon, Sam, promise."

"'K…want De'."

"Soon."

Sam swayed slightly where he sat and Bobby moved to help Jim lay the boy flat on the couch. The teen's eyes fluttered slowly, his breathing evening out. As his eyes finally began to close, Dean's name passed through his lips once more. The two men shared a look. Dean better hurry the hell up.

**10 MINUTES LATER:**

Jim sat with Sam in the living room, holding the ice pack to his nose. Bobby had gone to fetch the boy a clean shirt. Just as he reappeared at the top of the stairs, the door slammed open and Dean came rushing through the door. He tossed Bobby the Impala's keys in exchange for the shirt.

"Groceries are in the trunk. Sam?"

"Livin' room."

Dean moved through the house quickly, taking Jim's place with barley a glance to the Pastor. Said Pastor smiled in relief at the brother's arrival and stood, moving out of the room to give the two space. The elder brother lowered a hand into Sam's hair, gently twisting the locks around his fingers, something he had wished to do for so long now. It's was one of Dean's favorite privileges. He felt it was to intimate for just brothers and had believed he'd never be allowed. The closest he'd come was running his fingers through Sam's hair, a soothing motion for the both of them that none the less left much to be desired on his part.

Dean sighed, using his free hand to wipe the blood off Sam's chin. Knowing it had to get it over with sooner or later, Dean gently roused Sam with a tap to the cheek.

"Come on, Sammy. Wakey wakey, little brother."

"De'?"

"Yeah, it's me. Work with me here. I gotta get this shirt off."

Together, the two managed to get Sam sitting up and into the clean shirt. Dean settled onto the couch next to Sam, spinning to lean against the armrest and stretch his legs. Sam crawled into his lap, settling comfortably between his legs. Dean took the ice pack from Sam's hand, pulling it away. He smoothly felt along Sam's nose, checking for breaks before replacing the ice pack.

"You're lucky. It'll bruise but nothing's broken. You may even get a black eye outta it."

Sam mumbled something intelligible. Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, wrapping his arms around his brother and holding him close.

"What in the world possessed you to go see John?"

"I just…I wanted to see if maybe, maybe he'd…"

"Changed?"

Sam nodded lightly, twisting his fingers in Dean's shirt.

"I don't know why I thought he would. It's been so long…at some point it would make sense I'd stop thinking it was gonna stop."

Dean said nothing, simply ran his palms over Sam's back and arms, soothing him as much as he could. He had a feeling this conversation was going to piss him off and take a lot out of Sam. Maybe he'd finally get some answers.

"How long's it been Sammy?"

A beat of silence, followed by a quite admission that almost stopped Dean's heart.

"Twelve years."

"Christ Sammy…you were only 5!"

Sam stopped twisting his shirt, using his fingertips to smooth out the wrinkles. His fingertips moved to the collar of Dean's shirt. Sam opened his mouth to speak but instead moved his hands to rest on Dean's shoulders, fingertips continuing to smooth nonexistent wrinkles.

"It wasn't always as b-bad as you…saw. That was the f-first time. Only time…"

Dean muttered a quick thanks to God into Sam's hair, peppering the brunette locks with kisses. Sam's shoulders were tense, so Dean smoothed a palm over them slowly. It reduced the tension only slightly but Dean was glad of even the smallest amount.

"It didn't happen very often in the beginning. Barley once every c-couple of months. It got worse when I started training…worse when I started going on hunts. I…disappointed him. Got you hurt."

Dean pulled Sam closer to him, tangling their legs together on the couch. Sam smiled softly against his neck.

"You made it better…by being there. It was…worth it. Because I got to be near you."

"I'm sorry Sammy. 'M so sorry."

The elder brother ducked his head, nuzzling past long, brown locks to rest his cheek against Sam's neck and pepper his clothed shoulder with apologetic kisses. He could feel tears welling in his eyes and for once he wasn't embarrassed; this was something he wouldn't be ashamed to cry for. Sam deserved his tears, Sam deserved so much more than Dean felt he could give. Sam, who in his endless caring, was now carding his fingers through Dean's short hair in an attempt to soothe his brother.

"Sam?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Dean looked up just in time to catch a soft, beautiful, content smile settle on Sam's lips.

"I love you too, Dean."

**END OF CHAPTER: **

You have no idea how close I was to just ending it at "I love you too, Dean" and then leaving you all to wonder what the fuck happened to John and did Dean and Sam ever get it on. You have. No. Idea. Alas, I couldn't leave it so open ended, so another chapter will be coming soon. I'm sorry that the chapters are getting shorter. Almost done with this story you know…maybe I'll do a series on one-shots? Eh, don't get excited. I'm running out of steam xD

Review please?

Eris-R-Renee


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural…boo.

Warnings: Incest/homosexual relationships/Wincest/blah/blah/cussing maybe/bad grammar probably/etc.

**THE NEXT DAY (14 DAYS AFTER): **

Dean and Sam had spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch, talking quietly. Most of the memories they visited were happy ones, times when Dean and Sam had been allowed to act like the kids they were. Sam's favorite was when Dean had challenged him to tie every stem in a container of cherries with his tongue. Personally, Dean liked the memory of his 13th birthday. Sam had wanted to bake him a cake and had skipped school. Dean was shocked when he came home, frantic with worry, to find Sam covered in powder and carefully frosting a chocolate cake. Needless to say, the mess had been worth it.

Sam went to bed early, using Dean as a pillow. After he was sure his younger brother was asleep, Dean slipped out of bed and went to the panic room. He stood outside that door for three hours, wanting to go inside but finding he couldn't. When he finally crawled back into bed, Sam was awake. The brunette had offered the older man a small kiss to the cheek and a gentle "It's okay Dean…" before falling back asleep. Dean wasn't so sure.

After breakfast, Dean decided it was now or never. Sam sat next to him, their hands tangled under the table and resting on Dean's knee. Dean was the one to do a quick walkthrough of what Sam had told him about John, laying it out for Jim and Bobby while Sam sat quietly. The group had been sitting in silence for the last five minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

"What now?"

It was Sam who spoke, gaze fixed under the table where Dean's thumb was rubbing soothing circles on his knee. Dean carefully looped their ankles together, both boys glad for the extra contact. Bobby sighed, rubbing a hand over his scruffy beard.

"Well, the question is what do we do with John?"

There was silence.

"Shoot him."

"Dean!"

The hunter turned to Sam, righteous anger creating stress lines around his mouth.

"No Sammy, don't try to argue with me. It's the least he deserves!"

"It's not right. We don't just…kill people!"

Dean frowned heavily, his jaw clenching.

"Maybe we should make an exception."

"No."

Dean sighed as Sam stood his ground, the anger seeming to rush out of every pore. Sam's glare softened and he reached with a hand to gently run the backs of his fingers down Dean's face.

"It's not right Dean and you know it."

"Doesn't mean I like it."

Sam's mouth quirked at the corner at his brother's mumbling. Bobby and Jim watched the display with equal amounts of content, glad the two still balanced each other out so well. Jim leaned forward, lacing his fingers together.

"What if we lock him away? For life."

Dean raised a brow.

"Not that I'm arguing, 'cause that sounds like a plan, but where do you plan on putting him? Bobby's gonna need his room back."

"Damn straight."

Dean rolled his eyes at the gruff hunter. Sam's brow furrowed and he leaned back, pulling up his free hand so he could chew on a nail. Dean slapped the hand away affectionately, causing Sam to give him a small glare before turning to Pastor Jim.

"What if we…fabricated a situation?"

Jim smiled.

"I like the way you think Sam."

**A FEW HOURS LATER: **

Dean sighed, aggravated. He didn't like this plan. Nonetheless, it was ingenious and most likely would work. _Most likely._ The part Dean didn't like was that Sam was involved.

"Dean."

"Hm?"

"Go on. Sam headed out two minutes ago. He'll almost be in position by now."

"Still don't like this."

Bobby nodded, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"It'll be fine. Now go, ya idjit, before you mess up the plan."

Dean nodded and ran down the steps to the panic room. Once there he threw open the lock, not bothering to hesitate. He pushed the door open, moving into the room and kneeling to unlock the chain from John's foot.

"Dean? What's goin' on, son?"

"It's Sam. He took the Impala and ran."

"What?"

Dean finished with the ankle, standing to run a hand through his hair in agitation.

"You were so right Dad. I thought…I thought it was a misunderstanding. But Sam…"

John put a hand on Dean's shoulder and he shivered, managing to time it perfectly so his father thought he was shivering in disgust at the thought of Sam. John squeezed his shoulder comfortingly and then began to walk out of the room. Dean followed, trying to keep a straight face.

"I'm sorry Dad, that I didn't believe you."

"It's alright son. S'all in the past."

Dean continued to follow his father up the stairs and through the living room. They had just moved onto the porch when Bobby jogged up, holding a shotgun.

"I had to blow one of your tires Dean, sorry."

Dean scowled in livid anger; that was _not _part of the plan! Bobby looked at John for a moment before turning back to Dean.

"He ran off into the salvage yard."

"Damn."

John took off running, Dean pulling to a stop by Bobby to grab the pistol he held out.

"Jim called the cops, they're about 5 minutes away…just in case."

Dean nodded, tucking the pistol into his pants and taking off at a dead sprint to catch up to his father. John reached the stopped Impala and Dean cursed when he saw the deflated tire. Up ahead, Dean saw Sam running behind a decaying car. John caught a glimpse of the teen and stalked in his direction. Dean cursed and stayed where he was, slightly hidden by a pile of car doors.

"Sam! Come out here, boy."

A moment of silence before Sam's head peeked around the car, eyes searching for Dean. The elder brother put up three fingers, letting Sam know how far away the police were. The teen nodded and slipped out from behind the car to face his father. Dean tensed, letting out a breath and palming the pistol.

"Dad."

"Sam. I hear you tried to run. Not very smart of you."

Sam offered a weak shrug, standing stock still as John stepped towards him slowly.

"Now why would you needa run away? Try somethin' on Dean that he didn't like, hm?"

Dean's jaw clenched as John came within arm's reach of Sam. With barley a growl for a warning, John lunged forward and caught Sam's shirt in his fist. The teen grunted, knees buckling at the sudden jarring movement. John sighed, free hand tugging on Sam's hair. Dean took half a step forward, muscles practically vibrating under his skin.

"Sam…wanna know somethin'?"

John didn't give the boy a chance to respond, pulling Sam closer to him so their faces were inches apart. What he said next didn't reach Dean, but Sam paled when it reached his ears.

"You're just as fuckin' beautiful as Mary."

John roughly bit Sam's lip, ignoring his yelp and helping himself to Sam's mouth. His hand had just worked under Sam's shirt when there was a shout.

"POLICE! Release the boy and put your hands up!"

**END OF CHAPTER:**

I'm sooo sorry about how short this is. I couldn't help it, I had to end it here. xD One more chapter, which is the epilogue. During which I will attempt some uhhh sex. Don't expect greatness for I am not a guy, though I am gay. I'm doing research tonight before I write it. And by research I mean reading some smutty, porno fanfiction, preferably Wincest or Wincestial or maybe even Sabriel and Sassy. What do you call Sam/Balthazar? Salthazar? Ugh, to much of a mouthful.

Review?

Eris-R-Renee


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural…if I did, this chapter would be an episode…or at least part of the chapter would be…

Warnings: Yaoi, malexmale, homosexual relationships, incest, Wincest in particular…and yeah.

**ABOUT 4 MONTHS LATER:**

Sam sighed contently, leaning his head back to better feel the sun on his face. Things were really turning around for him and Dean. John had been arrested and sent to a prison three states over from South Dakota for life on charges of severe fraud, credit card scams, breaking and entering, possession of illegal weapons, and trespassing. Afterwards, Sam had been determined to tell Bobby and Jim about his relationship with Dean only to discover that Dean had beaten him to it.

Bobby's reaction was basically _what you boys do is your business_, though he said it with less words and more chuckles and exaggerated eyebrow movements. Jim had offered a small hug and an ear to talk to, like it had always been. Sam was pleasantly surprised, to say the least. He'd hesitantly questioned Dean about it, confused to the easy acceptance to something so frowned upon by society. Dean had held him close for a long time, managing to point out to Sam that Bobby and Jim were family and they didn't care, so long as the brother's loved and took care of each other.

Jim had left a month or so after John was arrested, heading back to Blue Earth. He had been gone from his church to long, he said. Leaving behind many pies and other baked goods, Jim made the boys promise to visit before heading to Minnesota. Dean and Sam spent another two months with Bobby, helping him with research and going on short hunts. About a month ago, the boys had left to travel on their own.

Dean had mentioned retiring from hunting, maybe getting a place in Palo Alto near Stanford after finding the acceptance letters in the bottom of Sam's duffle. Sam had shaken him off, throwing the letters in the trash. College had been an escape from John. Now that he was gone and Sam had Dean, the man couldn't imagine pulling Dean from the hunting world to essentially become a house wife. Sam wanted to travel with Dean, continue the family business ganking monsters.

Sam's birthday had passed somewhere in the last four months, officially making him 18 and thus an adult. For the past month on the road, the boys had been getting a single bed in hotels. They rarely did more than sleep in the same bed, though Sam had managed to rope Dean into a few hand jobs and, on one memorable occasion, mutual blowjobs in the shower. Dean showered him with all the affection he could ever need but even with the kisses, hugs, and nights spent cuddling Sam wanted more. Dean had been nothing but patient and a saint, only taking the initiative if Sam started the confrontations.

Sam understood that his brother wanted to make sure he was ready, wanted to make things easy for him. It was in Dean's nature, something he had been doing since Sam was born; he was taking care of his little brother. And while Sam appreciated the love and affection, he was ready for the next step. So here he was, currently sitting in the hotel room alone, waiting for Dean to get back with lunch. The second his brother walked through that do- Sam's thoughts were cut off by the sound of the Impala. With a small smile, he stood and drew the curtains shut and turned to face the door.

The door to the hotel room opened and Dean's head popped in, key card held between his teeth. He had just managed to shut the door and set the to-go bag on the table when Sam pushed him firmly against the door. Dean's jaw loosened, allowing the key card to fall out and onto the floor. Sam's tongue promptly took its place, ferociously licking the inside of Dean's mouth.

The man didn't complain, eagerly returning the wet, frantic kiss as he moved his arms to rest around Sam's neck. The younger brother had finally stopped growing and was now almost a head taller than Dean, shy only a few centimeters. Sam pulled away only enough to whisper a greeting, his lips catching on Dean's as they were so close. Dean grinned.

"Well hello to you too, Sammy. What's got you so happy?"

Sam smiled; shuffling closer to his brother so there was no space between them. One of Sam's giant, warm hands crawled up Dean's shirt, tracing his hip bone to his back and then up his spine. Dean shuddered lightly, arching into Sam's chest as though trying to get away from the hand. While he was distracted by the warm hand now tracing firm patterns onto his shoulders, Sam used his free hand to grasp the front of the shirt and slide it smoothly off Dean. The shirt got stuck on his arms as they were resting on Sam's shoulders. Dean allowed the shirt to be tugged completely off his arms, though he watched it happen with something akin to apprehension and wonder.

"Sammy…?"

"Shh."

Sam leaned down, capturing his brother's lips in another kiss. Sam himself was dressed only in a pair of loose jeans, so he felt it only fair that Dean lose more clothing. The taller man lifted his lover by the waist and set him on the kitchen table, Dean reaching behind him to brush the to-go bag aside. As Sam kissed his way down Dean's chest, he reached with one hand to tug off Dean's boots and socks. Dean sat up on his elbows, watching with pupils blown wide but a frown tugging on his lips. Sam's fingers reached for his elder brother's jeans and the man's jaw clenched. Dean grabbed Sam's hands, holding them in his own.

"Sam, stop. Look at me. You don't have to…"

Sam stood, pressing himself closer to Dean as he stood so Dean's clothed erection rubbed against Sam's bare chest. This caused the man sitting on the table to shudder, hips gently cantering forward without his permission. Sam raised a brow and smiled coyly.

"You don't look like you want me to stop."

Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times before he released one of Sam's hands to run a hand through his hair.

"Sam, please. This isn't about me. I just don't want you doing something you're not ready for. 'Specially if it's because you think I want to. I can wait."

Sam pursed his lips in exasperation.

"You've been waiting Dean. Besides…"

The brunette leaned forward, bowing his head so he could lick a strip up Dean's neck to end at his ear, giving the lobe a light tug with his teeth. Dean's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily. Sam turned his lips to press against Dean's cheek.

"I've wanted you, De', for so, so long."

Dean groaned, burying a hand in Sam's shaggy hair and pulling him up to kiss him soundly.

"You drive me crazy, Sammy."

Sam barley managed a smirk before his mouth was being pillaged by Dean's tongue. The elder pulled away slightly, nodding his head towards the bed. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, pulling his brother backwards. Dean slipped one hand into Sam's pants, reaching to gently cup his ass. The younger groaned, arching into Dean and grinding his hips against his brother's. The back of Sam's knees hit the edge of the bed, allowing him to confidently fall backwards and drag Dean with him.

For a long moment, Dean simply rested on his elbows and gazed at his little brother's flushed face. He couldn't help but smile at the feeling of happiness that was welling inside of him. He'd never loved another so much and he didn't think he ever would. Sam was his one and only, his forever and after. Sam smiled, reaching to tangle his fingers in Dean's short hair.

"I love you."

Accompanied with the words was a soul-bearing kiss. They separated with a deep breath, desperate for air. Dean stroked gentle fingers down the side of Sam's face, moving to bury them in Sam's hair. With soft, petal lips, Dean began to kiss his brother's face. His forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his lips, his chin. He moved lower, peppering Sam's long, slender neck with soft kisses, harder bits, and a deep sucking that promised a beautiful blossoming of color the next morning. Sam released the softest of whimpers and moans, fingers gently racking Dean's back.

Still the older brother moved lower, drawing a heart on Sam's chest with his tongue, finally coming to rest on a nipple. He gently sucked it into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and scrapping over it with his teeth. Sam gasped, unable to stop himself from arching into his brother's mouth. Dean smiled, repeating the action on the other nipple with just as much concentration.

"D-dean!"

"Hm?"

By now, Dean was pressing kisses along Sam's stomach, lips causing vibrations to tickle Sam's bellybutton. The younger brother giggled lightly, running teasing fingers over the ticklish spot on the back of Dean's neck in retaliation. Dean pulled from his worship of Sam's body to laugh lightly, smiling at Sam.

"This is about you, Sam. Let me worship my beautiful boy."

Sam blushed in synch with his shiver, loving the smooth gravel of Dean's voice. He nodded, giving his assent for Dean to continue. The older brother didn't pause, moving his lips back to Sam's stomach. He quickly worked his way to Sam's hips, lovely handles that peaked over the top of his low-slung jeans. Dean nipped the bone lightly while he worked open the button and zipper of Sam's jeans, looking through his eyelashes at his brother. Sam's hazy eyes were fixed on his brother and a flush was spreading delightfully across his cheeks.

Dean quickly yanked Sam's pants off, stopping on his way back up his body to admire the toned legs and powerful thighs. Sam shivered as Dean's fingers and tongue worked in tandem to trace imaginary words on his thighs, fingers creeping up Sam's boxers. The elder brunette had barley slid his fingers under his brother's boxers to take them off when Sam sat up slightly. The man backed off, sitting up slightly and leaning up to kiss his brother, eager to reassure him. Sam kissed him back, laughing as he pulled away.

"Your pants, De'."

Dean smirked. He quickly shucked his own pants and, after glancing at the enthralled Sam, pulled off his own boxers. Though he wanted their first time to be all about Sam (partly for his own selfish want to worship his brother, but largely so Sam remained comfortable) he did allow Sam to sit up and reach with hesitant hands to trace along his thighs. With a shy glance up at Dean, Sam began to gently run a finger up Dean's hardening length.

Dean groaned, muscles shaking with the strain of keeping his body still. Sam smiled, kissing Dean thoroughly for a moment before laying back. Dean remained standing at the side of the bed, watching as Sam spread himself comfortably on the bed, looking completely comfortable in the submissive position. Dean's already solid length began to border on painful in want but he ignored it, moving to kneel between his brother's long, spread legs.

While he couldn't say he'd sucked dick before, he could say he was very eager to taste Sam. Blowing lightly on his brother's weeping tip in warning, he barley hesitated before sucking the engorged dick into his mouth. Sam arched off the bed, his back tight as a bowstring and mouth open in silent shock. Dean gently pushed his hips back onto the bed, working slowly as he learned the territory. Sam pulled at his hair insistently after only a few minutes, unable to speak. Dean pulled off, saliva connecting him to his brother's dick. Sam groaned, gently petting Dean's hair to rid it of the ache his yanking had caused.

"I-if you keep at it…I'm going to cum before we get started."

Dean chuckled, moving up his brother and kissing him firmly. Their bodies rubbed together at all points, the delicious friction causing them to lose themselves in rutting for a few minutes. At some point, their lips had separated and now only their breath mingled.

"I want you, Dean. Now. _Please._"

Dean nodded, kissing his brother again; he just couldn't resist the soft, cherry-flavored lips. God, he'd never tease Sam for his chapstick use again! Dean leaned to the side of the bed, reaching blindly with his hand for something. Sam grabbed his wrist, stopping his movement.

"You won't find the condoms, Dean. I threw them out."

He framed his elder brother's beautiful face with his large, warm hands and pulled their faces closely together.

"I want you, Dean. Just you."

Dean paused but then acquiesced with a small smile and a deep kiss. Sam grinned, pushing Dean back onto the bed. The green-eyed man raised a brow at the change in position. The younger brother merely smiled coyly, resting a hand on his brother's hip and lowering his head in one swift motion. Dean's eyes slammed shut in bliss as his brother's cool tongue swirled on his dick, coating the entire engorged asset in saliva. Once the deed was done, Sam pulled off and then leaned back, not bothering to wipe the drop of Dean's precum off his lip. Dean kissed it away, loving the debauched look Sam wore.

Catching one of Sam's hands in his own, he tangled their fingers and rested their joined heads above Sam's head. Dean quickly coated his own fingers in saliva, sliding one into Sam quickly. The younger brother smiled, spurring Dean to add another finger. Sam's breath hitched and he gentle rotated his hips, prompting Dean into adding a third finger. At this intrusion, Sam hissed lightly, eyes shut. Dean spent a few minutes stretching and twirling his fingers in his brother, enjoying the way the younger man was becoming undone.

"N-now De'!"

The older brother obliged, removing his fingers and using his hand to guide himself to his brother's well-prepped entrance. He leaned forward, catching his brother's mouth in a fierce kiss, tongues tangling as he slid into the warm heat that was his brother in one smooth motion. Sam pulled away with a shaky breath that was part stinging pain and part pleasure. Dean groaned, dropping his head to Sam's neck. He nuzzled the moist skin in the crook of his neck, licking and nipping as he began a gentle pace of slow, deep thrusts.

Sam detangled their hands, moving one hand to the back of Dean's neck and the other to his hip, blunt fingernails digging in lightly. Dean sighed in pleasure, using one arm to prop himself up and the other to grasp Sam's hips. They continued the slow, loving pace for quite awhile, simply enjoying being joined so intimately after so long of a wait. Finally Sam tugged lightly on Dean's hair, urging him to go faster with a whispered groan.

There was no hesitance. Dean moved both hands to grasp Sam's waist, holding him for stability. Sam wrapped both arms around Dean's neck, succeeding in getting the two closer together, so their chests brushed with every thrust. The soft, deep thrusts picked up in pace and intensity, causing the bed to rock. Sam's head fell back from where he was licking and biting at Dean's neck, his mouth open as a wave of pleasure washed over him. Dean grinned, shifting on his knees to better nail his younger brother's pleasure spot.

Sam's nails racked down his back, causing a fuzzy sense of pleasure-pain to wash over Dean. It took only a few minutes of the intense pleasure caused by Dean's skilled aiming to send Sam over the edge without a touch. He came with loud moan that bordered on a shout, the sound mixing perfectly with the syllables of Dean's name. His brother followed him over the edge within moments, sinking deep into Sam's twitching hole.

They rode out the aftershocks of their overwhelming orgasms in the silence of their hotel room, the only sound their harsh breathing and Sam's airy whimpers. Dean carefully lowered himself to lie onto of Sam, moving to pull out. He was stopped by Sam, who pulled him further up his body, forcing his flaccid dick further into his brother. They kissed softly, completely relaxed. Dean was twirling Sam's hair around his fingers while Sam traced patterns on Dean's shoulder. They continued to kiss for an indeterminable time, until Sam pulled away to press his forehead to Dean's.

"I love you. More than anything."

Dean smiled softly, kissing the tip of Sam's nose.

"I love you too, Sam."

The older brother leaned forward, letting his lips brush Sam's ear.

"More than the Impala, to tell the truth."

Sam laughed, a pleasant sound that created a slap-happy grin to cross Dean's face.

"Don't tell her that, she'd get sad."

Dean chuckled, kissing Sam's collarbone, where a small bite mark was beginning to blossom purple. He then pulled out of his brother, revealing in the whimper of loss.

"Come on, Sammy. Shower time."

He turned on his heel and sauntered to the bathroom, throwing open the door and flipping on the light switch. He looked over his shoulder, his green-eyes bright and laughing as he watched Sam lounge on the bed and check him out.

"You coming?"

Sam slid off the bed, stalking towards him. He backed Dean into the door, framing his face with his warm hands. Their lips came together harshly, biting and bruising with the force. Sam was doing this thing with his tongue and Dean melted against the door. By the time he opened his eyes, Sam was in the shower, steam already rising. The younger brother raised a brow, smirk on his lips.

"Are you going to join me, Dean?"

Dean growled, a smile pulling at his lips.

"Always, Sammy. Always."

**THE END OF THE STORY:**

**I'm so sorry the end sucked! I couldn't figure out how to end it…anyway, this is the last chapter. Like it? You got your porn! And I have to tell you, it is really awkward when the inspiration hits you in the Target Starbucks…and there are kids around and your drinking coffee and blushing because you're typing porn and ahh! It was the most thrilling thing I've done all summer. xD Anyway, please let me know if you liked the story. And thanks for sticking with me through all this!**

**Review please? As a goodbye gift?**

**Eris-R-Renee**


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